Psychic BS
by Brat-Child3
Summary: Cartman believes he's a psychic, Kyle thinks he's full of it. To prove his abilities, he begins making predictions about Stan and Kyle's relationship. When they come true, Kyle has to rethink Cartmans predictions, and his relationship with Stan.
1. A Psychic Is Born

**Authors Note: **Well then. Read my profile and my name change from 2 to 3 will make sense, as well as the reposting of this. I'll submit a chapter or two every week. :) Plz Review.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own South Park.

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In the dead of winter one particular morning, flakes of snow danced and glided through the air, gently brushing against the cheeks of the two boys waiting at the bus stop. One smiled pleasantly and breathed deep the fresh mountain air, while the other's anger seemed to increase with each white puff that clung to him. He bared his clenched teeth as his eyes followed one that wafted down and gently pinged against his nose.

"God damn snow! My mom made me shovel the whole driveway before I left this morning!" Cartman exploded.

His company was broken from his pleasant thoughts and immediately scowled. "Shut the hell up, fat ass! Snow is about the only cool thing that happens around here anymore."

As if his anger hadn't already reached the boiling point. "Aye! Don't call me fat ass, Jew boy!"

Kyle's green mittens curled into angry fists. If that stupid son of a slut spouted _one _more insult toward his religion, he would find himself the piñata at his little brother Ike's next birthday party. The bastard certainly had enough candy stuffed inside.

His eyes shifted from Cartman's head to a stick lying on the ground. He was mulling over the idea of trying out the party game _now,_ when two of his more pleasant and considerate friends came into sight. He grinned brightly, clearly happy to see them. But his smile was short lived, immediately evaporating into a concerned frown as he took note of the slight tremors that wrecked his very best friend.

"What's wrong with you?" He asked.

Stan's teeth chattered as he spoke. "It's f-freezing balls, if you haven't n-noticed." His fists were balled and tucked tightly under his chin in futile attempt to keep a little warmer.

Kyle and Cartman cast each other confused glances.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Cartman blurted.

"Dude, it's not cold." Kyle pointed out. "It feels exactly the same as it feels everyday in this screwed up, icebox town."

"Yeah, that's what I told him." Kenny mumbled his agreement beneath his orange hood.

Stan's breath came out in large puffs of visible steam as he rubbed his hands up and down his arms. "I th-think I'm catching a c-cold."

"Or maybe you're just a pussy." Cartman amended.

Kenny mumbled his opinion, pointing out the previous day.

Kyle considered it a moment. "Hey… Yeah, Kenny's right." He mused before pointing a finger at Cartman. "It's all your fault he's getting sick!"

The accused was caught of guard only a moment before regaining his composure and his defenses. "It's not my fault he's a fucking pussy!"

"You're the one who told him he was going to get sick!" Kyle amended. "What the hell did you do, Cartman, expose him to one of your old, used tissues you've been saving as a form of revenge?"

"God damn, Kyle. You're a fucking mental case when it comes your precious Stanie-pooh." Cartman indicted.

His scowl only deepened. "You've had it out for him for weeks, ever since he kicked your ass for making Butters cry!"

"So what? I already used his tooth brush to wipe my ass and scrub the toilet. I wouldn't spread my germs too, I'm not an asshole." He was met for a moment by two completely mortified stares.

The ill-feeling party never even noticed the alleged confession as his stomach grew queasier from the pounding in his head. It felt like someone was using his brain for bongo practice. With an ever suffering moan, he rested his arm across his best friends left shoulder and let his head fall into the bend of his elbow.

Kyle glanced down at him and quickly back to Cartman. "You still told him he'd get sick!"

"I did not, I said I had a dream he was puking his guts out. It's not like he doesn't do that all the time anyway."

Stan pushed away from Kyle and began coughing uncontrollably, falling back into the snow from the force. Kenny helped him up as the other two boys pondered the situation.

"Hey, maybe I'm psychotic!" Cartman exclaimed.

"I think you mean psychic." Kenny corrected, still holding Stan balanced.

"Right, I meant _psychic_."

Kyle snorted sarcastically and crossed his arms. "You had it right the first time."

Cartman bared his teeth for the second time that morning. "Kyle, if you don't shut the hell up right now, I'm going to predict something really bad on your ass!"

"You can't even predict how god damn stupid you sound!"

"That's it you stupid piece of crap! You are going down." Kyle rolled his eyes as Cartman rubbed his chin thoughtfully and pondered what kind of ill fate he'd place upon the irritated boy. Stan's explosive sneeze caught his attention. His eyes then shifted to Kyle's increasingly concerned expression. A smirk crossed his face.

"Okay Kyle, I predict Stan will end up in your loving embrace before school's out."

Surprise snapped across Kyle's face before his brow furrowed angrily. "What the hell kind of sick prediction is that?"

"A prediction that you're not only a filthy Jew, but a gay-ass filthy Jew!"

"Up yours, Cartman!" He hissed, a small blush staining his cheeks.

Too achy to care and wishing to God they would stop their arguing, Stan placed his gloved hands to his throbbing temples and followed Kenny up the bus steps. His foot slid across the icy second step, sending him toppling backward. Kyle's arms shot out immediately to break his friend's fall. Stan sighed in relief, leaning his weight back and allowing his weak body the support of sturdy arms.

"Thanks, Dude." He spoke tiredly.

"Are you okay?" Kyle asked.

A quiet moan escaped his lips. "I feel like dog shit."

"You look like it, too." Kyle agreed, holding him steady as he re-gained his balance. "You should cut school today. Go home and tell your Mom you're too sick to even get on the bus."

Without argument, Stan waved his hand in response and sauntered through the snow toward his home.

"I sure hope he knows where he's going." Kyle spoke out loud.

"Well, well, well," Cartman's sugar-coated voice got his attention. "Looks like Stan ended up in your loving, Jewish embrace. You owe me twenty dollars."

"We never bet any money, ass wipe!"

"Damnit!" He cursed. "Fine, but you're still a gay little pussy!"

"What the hell was I suppose to do, let him fall? He's my best friend!" Kyle defended himself.

"Is he, Kyle? Is he?" Cartman asked as he boarded the bus.

Kyle tensed noticeably, casting one last contemplating glance at the stick he'd like to use on the inconsiderate bastard, and another foreboding glance in the direction Stan had gone. With a heavy sigh, he carefully climbed the metal steps.

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_BratChild3 (Lisha)_


	2. Miss You

**Authors Note: **Thanks so much for the reviews!

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**Chapter 2- Miss You:**

_Even though it was dark, he could still make out his surroundings with incredible accuracy. Obviously it was somewhere outside, considering the soft rays of silver from the incredibly thin crescent moon overhead. Thick trees with gnarled branches and gray leaves lined the wide, muddy path he stood on. The place wasn't familiar, and he was even unsure how he got there. All he knew was that he didn't like it. It held a sort of eeriness to it that made him shiver and pull his jacket closer around him._

_In the distance he could faintly see the silhouette of a familiar figure. It didn't move, but he could sense it watching him. Watching, and waiting._

"_Stan?" Nervousness tinged the name he called out._

_With one blink the figure moved, and now stood directly in front of him. He jerked back violently at the unexpected and surreal movement, falling back into the mud with a soft splash that made the shadow smile. He peered up at it frightfully, but immediately heaved a sigh of relief. He would recognize that smile anywhere. Hell, he would recognize his best friends hand if it were detached and set in a case with others._

"_Holy shit, Dude!" His heart hammered wildly in his ears. "What the hell was that?"_

_The addressed boy didn't speak, but his smile faded quickly. He clutched his stomach and squeezed his eyes closed as if he were in pain._

"_Are you okay?" Concern rung Kyle's voice. He stood, paying no mind to the mud that now dripped from him._

_Stan's blue eyes opened hesitantly, revealing a gush of tears that spilled down his cheeks like glistening waterfalls. As if an invisible gust of wind shot out, he was blown, or maybe even sucked backward and into the air. Kyle grabbed his hand and held tight, shaking so badly he felt sick as the terrified scream pierced his friends throat. His heels left skids in the mud as the force became so powerful it began dragging him slowly along._

"_Let him go, Kyle." A familiar voice rung out and echoed through the trees._

"_No!" Kyle yelled back. He squeezed his grip tighter, not even caring the pressure was probably extremely painful on Stan's sensitive fingertips. Despite his attempt, his hold slid further and further down Stan's hand and fingers until he finally broke loose._

"_Stan!" Kyle's blood curdling shriek escaped without permission as he was forced to watch his companion disappear into the darkness with a softly fading cry of terror. He fell to his knees, sobbing into his green mittens hysterically. The emotions caught painfully in his throat when he was yanked to his feet by the front of his shirt. He was acutely aware of the way his stray tears immediately froze on his cheeks and eyelashes when he met the blank gaze of Eric Cartman._

"_I hate to tell you this, Kyle," He spoke in his calm, business-like tone. Slight misery crossed his usually angry face as he looked up and to the left in thoughtfulness. "Stan is going to die."_

_Kyle's chest tightened, and he ripped Eric's hand off his shirt. "No he isn't!"_

_The rounder boy closed his eyes, losing himself in thoughts. "He's gone."_

"_Shut the fuck up!" Tears of anger burned Kyle's cheeks. "Why are you doing this!"_

"_I know." Eric answered with a smirk._

"_You know _what_?" _

_Eric's head cocked slightly to the side and his grin widened. "The best way to hurt you, is to hurt Stan."_

_The purest form of heartache choked Kyle's teary words, but his anger remained in tact. "What did you do to him!"_

_With a laugh, Eric turned and walked away, revealing the cross shaped headstone behind him._

"_Stanley Marsh"…_

…Kyle sprung forward in bed, barely holding back the petrified scream raging inside him. He was nearly choking on his sharp, quick breaths and with saucer-sized eyes took in the confines of his room. He clutched his blankets and squeezed his eyes closed, trying his damnedest to calm his rabid heart and rattled nerves.

But it just wasn't working.

His eyes opened reluctantly. A sinking pain consumed his stomach when his thoughts drifted to Stan. The dark-haired boy had been non-existent for two weeks, a total of ten school days. Kyle had gone to his house everyday after school, only to be turned away by Mrs. Marsh, who insisted her "baby" was too sick to even get out of bed, let alone have company.

Who the hell was _that_ sick for that long? Stan had always gotten over colds and viruses faster than any of them. But what if he was sicker than they realized? What if something was really wrong with him? What if he only got worse?

Kyle hugged his knees to his chest and began rocking up and back.

_Stan's going to die._

Cartman's words from his previous nightmare came back to haunt him full blast. They echoed through his head, swirling with the sound of Stan's terrified cry. He began rocking faster, trying to drown out the sounds with no success.

_Stan's going to die… Stan's going to die…_

"Fuck this!" He yelled, grabbing the phone off his side table and falling out of bed in the process. He quickly dialed Stan's number, not even caring about the dreadfully late hour. By the fourth ring, he became even more paranoid and was about to throw the phone and race to his best friends house, pajamas and all, when he heard a soft click.

"Stan?" He asked eagerly.

"Mmm?" Came the groggy reply.

"Oh, thank God, Dude." He sighed deeply. "I had this really crappy dream that you were dead because Cartman predicted it. It felt so real and freaked me out so bad I could barely breathe when I woke up. I don't think I've had a nightmare that bad since I was nine."

There was silence on the other end, and suddenly, "Kyle?"

"No Stan, it's your Mother." He replied sarcastically.

Another long pause. "Mom?"

Kyle couldn't help the quiet chuckle that bubbled out of his throat. "I was being sarcastic. Yes, this is Kyle."

Stan rubbed his eyes and tried to blink away sleep. "Do you have any idea how late it is?"

Kyle pulled the phone away from his ear when Stan began coughing loudly. He answered when the noise subsided. "No, and I don't give a flying fuck. I had to make sure you were alright. I'm really worried about you. I… don't want you to die." He chewed his lower lip, fighting back threatening tears as the image of the headstone flashed across his mind.

Stan propped himself up against his headboard, his forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Die? I'm not gonna die. I just got really sick. I was in the emergency room the first night I got it. Damn, dude, you wouldn't believe some of the sick things I saw there."

The red-haired boy finally began to relax and smiled at the familiar sound of his friends voice. "When are you coming out again?"

He was answered first by a yawn. "Maybe next week sometime."

"I hope so. I haven't had anyone cool to hang out with. Except Kenny, but it's not the same." He complained.

Stan scoffed. "You think that's bad? Try having no one to hang out with but Miffy, the get better bear."

"The _what?"_

"Don't ask."

Kyle stifled a laugh, picturing his friend snuggling a chubby brown bear and eating chicken soup. His humor subsided when Stan was attacked by another coughing fit, moaning in pain when it died down. "That sounds bad."

Stan faked a laugh. "You can't even imagine."

It wouldn't seem right, he knew. But his sensitivity got the best of him, and at the risk of sounding like a fag, Kyle voiced his thoughts. "I miss you, Stan."

"I miss you, too." He replied around a stuffy sounding sniff. "You haven't replaced me with the fat ass, have you?"

Pure disgust spread across Kyle's face. He was even reduced to sticking his tongue out in a mocked barfing imitation. "No way, Dude!"

Stan coughed around his laugh. "With anyone?"

"Of course not. You know I love you most."

"Good." He stated. "Don't break my heart, Kyle."

It was something he always liked about Stan. They were comfortable enough around each other to joke about their sexuality and platonic friendship _without _taking it literally. "Have I been replaced with Miffy?"

Stan's eyes automatically locked on the fluffy, stuffed animal resting at the foot of his bed. "Hmm. I love you both so much…"

"Stan!"

"But of course I choose you," He quickly added. "You're my favorite." He reached across the bed and grabbed the bear. "I'm sorry, Miffy. It's not me, it's you."

Kyle laughed at the make-believe breakup, now completely devoid of his nightmare and any lingering doubts about his friends condition.

"I'd better go," Stan announced, hugging the bear to his chest. "My Mom comes in to check on me every couple hours, and I'm not sure when she came in last."

Kyle nodded, forgetting the fact that he couldn't be seen. "Thanks for making me feel better."

"Feel better about what?"

"My nightmare."

"What nightmare?"

Kyle laughed again. Stan really _had _been out of it when he first called. "It's not important anymore."

"Sure?"

"Positive."

Stan stalled another cough. "Alright. I'll see you next week."

"Okay," Kyle agreed. "Goodnight."

"Night."

Kyle placed the phone in its proper spot, climbed back into bed from his position on the floor, and snuggled deep within his blankets. Sleep came easily, and this time with a smile on his face.

* * *

Butters stood by his locker, nervously biting his lower lip as his eyes scanned for the familiar face of Stan Marsh. Unfortunately, like every other day the past two weeks, the person he waited upon never did emerge from the outside world and into the stuffy school building.

He almost turned to walk to class, when his attention was brought about by Kyle. The boy was alone again, quietly tinkering with the contents of the locker he shared with Stan. He sighed woefully, looking particularly down today.

Butters twisted his fingers, debating on whether or not to approach his classmate. It only took a few moments for him to decide that he would. After all, it wasn't in his nature to brush off the miserable.

"H-hey, Kyle." He greeted.

Kyle shut the locker door and let his forehead fall against the cold metal, never once looking at the blonde. "Butters…" He muttered.

The said boy's eyes darted around, unsure if that was suppose to be a _Hello_ or a _Go away_. Hoping it was the first, he went on, "Well, I haven't seen Stan for ah, a while now and I was wondering if he's okay."

Kyle slammed his head against the locker door once. "He was suppose to come to school last week."

Butter's frowned at the explanation that completely lacked an explanation. "Wu- why didn't he?"

"I don't know, Butters." He turned from the locker and spread his arms wide. "What do I look like, a psychic?"

"No. Not if all psychics uh, look like Eric."

Anger seeped its way through Kyle's blood. "Cartman is _not _a psychic! That's all a bunch of bull crap!"

Butters looked down, linking his hands behind him "Gee, I'm sorry, Kyle."

"It's okay," He assured immediately as the irritation seeped out of him like helium. "I talked to him Friday. He said he should be coming back this week. Now it's Wednesday and I still haven't seen him."

A half smile curved Butters lips as he watched Stan sneak up behind his friend, a finger to his lips in code for the blonde to keep quiet. "I guess you miss him sumthin' terrible then, huh?"

Kyle sighed for what felt like the billionth time that morning. He hadn't had anyone to confide in since Stan got sick. It's not that Kenny wasn't a good listener, but Kyle knew it was best not to burden him. The unfortunate kid had enough to worry about on his own.

"I know this may sound kind of gay," Kyle found himself telling the luckier, yet geekier blonde. "But I've been miserable without Stan. All I've been doing is counting down the minutes until I can see him again."

"You're gonna give me diabetes if you say anything else that sweet."

Kyle spun around at the familiar voice, his eyes lighting up straight away as he took in his best friends profile. He looked slightly paler than normal, and had deep purple circles beneath his eyes, but for the most part looked normal. "Dude!" He burst out and squeezed Stan so tight he almost turned blue.

Butters bit back his jealousy as he watched on. Sweet as he thought it was, he couldn't help but wish he were as close with Stan as Kyle was. He had never singled out the raven haired boy in particular before. That all changed about a month ago. Eric had been teasing him for one reason or another, like he usually did. Any other day he would have done his best to shrug it off, but he had been especially sensitive that week, considering the recent death of a family member, and couldn't help but start crying.

The moment the tears began, Stan had stepped between the two and knocked the larger boy flat on his back with one blow to the face. He had then placed a comforting hand on Butters shoulder and led him away from the scene where he could calm down without being teased more for his emotions. Since that day, he had followed his savior around like a lost puppy, wanting to be everywhere he was.

The jealousy as well as the hug were shattered by Cartman's calm, collected voice. "I see your boyfriends back, Kyle. That's so sweet."

Kyle released Stan. "I see last week's pop tart decided to make its deposit on your ass." He quickly shot back.

"Oh, oh, you hear that, Stan?" Cartman asked tauntingly. "Kyle's been looking at my ass."

"It's kind of hard not to when you leave the room! You really should attach a warning beep to that wide load so people know when you're backing up."

"You know something, Kyle?" Cartman's voice was still calm. "Since you're apparently the girl in your relationship, I can officially call you a bitch!"

"Fuck you!"

"Bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch!" He teased in a singsong voice.

"What relationship?" Stan asked, not following the argument at all. "You have a girlfriend?"

"No." Kyle answered.

"He has a _boyfriend_." Cartman added.

"Dude!" Stan exclaimed.

"I do not!" Kyle defended himself.

"Oh I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Cartman apologized. "I didn't know Stan wanted to be the girl."

"What the hell is he talking about?" Stan now wore a confused frown.

Kyle kept his sardonic expression locked on Cartman as he answered. "Cartman's on some kind of stupidity trip and thinks he's a psychic. He's been making lame-ass predictions all week."

Stan's confused frown deepened "So, what's that have to do with you having a boyfriend?"

"I predicted yours and Kyle's dirty little secret." Cartman chimed in.

"What dirty little secret?"

"He thinks we're in love with each other." Kyle confirmed.

"What!" Stan shrieked. "That's not true!"

"But it will be." Cartman stated. "You two are so gay anyone could see it."

"Why do you think that!" Stan was, without a doubt, completely alarmed.

Kyle didn't seem upset by it at all, just irritated. "Because he's fat and he's stupid."

"I'm not fat, Goddamnit!"

Kyle smirked and faced Stan again. "Just ignore it, he can't predict shit he already knows about. I think all the blubber is blocking brain signals." The two began laughing at the thought.

"Oh yeah? I shall prove my abilities." Cartman placed his index and middle finger of each hand to his temples and closed his eyes. "I predict that… our teacher wont be in today and Mr. Mackey will have to fill in because a mob of pissed off eighth graders are holding the substitutes hostage."

Kenny joined them at that point, to which he was greeted solely by Stan.

Kyle rolled his eyes at Cartman's prediction. "What a load of bullshit."

"Twenty bucks, Kyle!"

"You're on!"

"Jesus Christ, you guys. If I didn't know any better, I'd say the two of _you_ were in love with each other." Stan interjected, to which Kenny began laughing.

"Fuck you!" They cursed in unison.

Butter's watched the four as they walked away, completely forgetting he had been standing there the whole time.

* * *

The four friends sat in a row in the middle of their sixth grade classroom, continuing to argue between each other about Cartman's "powers".

They turned their attention toward the front of the class when they heard the door swing open. Mr. Mackey stepped inside and faced the students. "I'm afraid I have some bad news, m'kay. Your teacher is out sick, and I couldn't get a fill in because there's a mob of angry seventh graders holding all the substitutes hostage. So, I'll be filling in myself, m'kay?"

Stan's jaw dropped and Cartman laughed heartily.

"I told you!"

Kyle still wasn't convinced. "You said eighth graders and they're seventh graders!"

"You're so stupid, Kyle." Cartman accused. "So maybe I was off a little, but I was right about everything else."

"He _was_ right." Stan agreed in shock.

"You don't actually believe this crap do you?" Kyle asked him.

"Yeah, do you?" Kenny parroted. "He heard them talking about it."

"Did not." Cartman argued.

"Did so!" Kyle shot back. "Your whole life revolves around getting one over on me, making me feel bad or pissing me off!"

"That may be so," He readily agreed. "But I'm not the one blushing like a sissy girl. I think the real issue here is the fact that you know I'm right."

"Cartman, you're a big, fat, stupid pussy and nobody likes you!"

Cartman's smile never faltered. "You're kinda hot when you're pissed. Isn't he Stan?"

"Very hot!" Kenny agreed, clearly finding their argument and Eric's teasing extremely amusing.

Stan's jaw still hung open in disbelief. He never answered the teasing question.

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_-BratChild3 (Lisha) _


	3. Skittles

**Authors Note: **Hey guys, thanks for the reviews to chapter 2. Look in my profile for more info on... stuff.

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**Chapter 3: Skittles.**

He could feel the adrenalin pump throughout his body the moment the bell rang. In the small amount of time it took to exit the classroom, he had managed to stumble twice; once in the simple process of standing from his desk, and the other in the doorway, which sent him sliding across the waxed floor and straight into the wall. Stan was quick to leave today, which was the reason for his haste. He wanted to catch the living angel before he disappeared somewhere in the crowd of the cafeteria.

Now his head spun with stars as he lay where he had fallen and smacked his head on the hard, cold tile of the Sixth grade corridor. He was having a hard time deciding which was worse, the kids that laughed or the fact that Stan had witnessed everything from the slip to the smack.

"Butters?"

He opened his eyes to see Stan and Kyle leaning over him. Their concern mirrored each other, a habit of theirs he found particularly irritating. They had adopted each others facial expressions and probably never even noticed.

"Are you okay?" Kyle asked.

"Yeah, that looked like a hard spill." Stan added.

For once in his life, he wished the two of them were bigger assholes that would have kept walking right on by like everyone else had. Instead, Stan reached out his gloveless hand and helped him up. Butters accepted it, and frowned once he was standing.

"Well?" He asked.

"Well, what?" Stan questioned.

Butter's looked up, realizing he was shorter then the both of them by at least an inch. "Aren't you guys gonna laugh at me and- and call me a Melvin?"

Stan and Kyle's eyes locked with each other for a moment before focusing on him again.

"We're not assholes, Butters. You could have been seriously hurt." Stan pointed out.

Kyle nodded "We wont laugh and call you a Melvin until later, when we know you're alright."

"Yeah." Stan agreed.

Butters looked back down and rubbed the sore spot on the back of his head. "Oh, okay." Just his luck. He had wanted Stan's attention, but not by making a joke of himself. All he wanted was for them to stop looking at him now. Instead, to his further humiliation, Cartman and Kenny emerged from the classroom to join them.

"What's going on?" Kenny asked the moment he spotted Butters, as if no one would talk to him unless something happened.

"Butter's hit his head." Stan supplied.

Cartman snorted. "That was stupid. What did you do that for?"

"Not on purpose, you dumb shit!" Kyle snapped.

The offended stared him down blankly. "Sometimes I have dreams about you, Kyle. And in them, dark things happen to you. Things that make me smile."

"Okay, cut the crap. Both of you." Stan intervened. "Do you need help to the nurse, Butters?"

"Uh, no. I'm fine." He answered, apprehensively clanking his knuckles together. If it had been just Stan, he would have taken up the offer even though he really didn't need to go. The fall had looked and sounded worse than it really was. In fact, Stan looked more in need of a nurse than himself, but that was to be expected of someone who had been sick for little over two weeks.

"Good," Kyle stated. "Now lets go before fat ass gets so hungry he eats one of us."

"Ha ha ha," Cartman mocked. "I guess that holds a double-meaning coming from you, doesn't it, Kyle?"

Kenny chuckled. "Maybe he _wants _you to eat him." He followed Stan and Kyle as they began down the hall.

Kyle grit his teeth. "You're a fucking pervert, Kenny. Sometimes I think you get off on it."

"Sometimes I do." He agreed proudly.

Butters watched Stan walk away from him for the second time that day. He needed to find a way to get closer to him. There _had _to be a way. How the hell did Kyle do it?

Heedless to Butters, Cartman had stayed behind for observation. It hadn't gone unnoticed to him the way the blonde had stared longingly at Stan the entire time. If there were even the slightest chance he could screw with Kyle's head, he would do it. Even if it meant he couldn't snag two desserts today.

"Is there something you need to talk about, Butters?" He made the poor kid spin around on his heals at an extraordinary speed.

"N-no, nothing at all. What would make you think somethin' like that?"

"I'm psychic, remember?" His confidence level was evident.

Butters eyes darted nervously. "Well gee, Eric. Kyle says that's all a bunch of bull crap."

Cartmans eyebrows furrowed angrily. "I'm going to kill that Jew someday." He muttered beneath his breath before regaining his friendly mask. "Butters, I'm your friend-"

"You are?"

"Yes, Goddamnit!"

Butters jumped back fearfully at the unexpected shout. Cartman placed an exasperated hand to his forehead and closed his eyes as another string of curses whispered through his lips. Not only did this kid short his fuse even easier than Kyle did, he was also starving, which naturally pissed him off. Despite that, he had to retain some patience. The promise of Kyle's tears and frustration was worth it. Regaining his composure, he placed a hand on Butters shoulder. "I'm your friend, and I want you to know you can talk to me about anything. It's okay, I'm here for you."

Butters pursed his lips together. He should know better than to trust Eric Cartman with anything. Then again, he never was the brightest crayon in the box, and the fact that Eric was in with Stan made the offer too appealing to decline. "Well, okay then." A deep sigh filled his lungs. "I want to be cool. So Stan will hang out with me, see? But I don't know how to be."

'_Oh, God this is so cool. Thank you Lord, thank you.'_ Cartman thought. "Butters, Butters, Butters." He faked exasperation as he made a half circle around his shorter peer. "Stan doesn't care if you're cool."

"He doesn't?"

"No." His voice was heavy with false sweetness. "Kyle's about as far from cool as they come, and Stan's practically licking his balls."

Butters scowled at the image portrayed. "What's he got that I don't?"

"Let me ask you this," Cartman started in. "Do you care about Stan?"

The question earned a frown. "Well, sure."

"You didn't hug him when you saw him today."

"No-"

"But Kyle did." Butters stared blankly, not getting the point. "That's where you went wrong. You see, he now knows that Kyle loves him. Maybe he doesn't hang out with you, because he thinks you hate him."

"Gosh, I would never do nothin' to make him think that."

"But, you've never done anything to make him think otherwise." Eric pointed out. "You see, Butters, Stan is… Lets see, how can I put this lightly," He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "He's a rainbow child."

"A hippie?"

"No, not a goddamn hippie!" Cartman cursed. "Try and stay with me on this; He's a pussy. A gay ass, fucking pussy that likes to rejoice in all that sensitivity crap. He has a boner for displays of affection. It's simple, really. All you need to do is show him how much you like him."

"How?"

"Hump his leg for all I care. Jesus Christ, Butters, you really push it, don't you?"

"Oh, but I'm not gay, Eric."

He froze, disbelief across his face. "You're not gay?" Sarcasm dripped like an overly frosted cake.

Butters missed the conviction entirely. "Well, heck no."

It was even better than he had imagined. More than he could hope for. God loved him, he was sure of that now. Now, not only could he screw with Kyle's head, but also Butters and Stan. Screwing with Stan's head only meant screwing with Kyle's head on a higher degree. It was almost impossible to keep the smile off his face, but he somehow managed. He placed an arm around Butters shoulders and sighed. "I hate to have to be the one to break this to you, but yes, you are. You are gay."

"But-"

"Butters… gay. Butter's… gay." He motioned his hands up and down as if he were a balancing weight. "Guys don't like other guys unless they're gay."

Butters scowled. "That isn't true. If it were… well, then Stan and Kyle and- and Kenny would be too, 'cause they all like each other."

Eric scoffed. "They're all fags, Butters. It's so obvious. Just look at me. I'm not and you can tell because I hate those guys and hope that one day they die from aides, especially Kyle."

Butters fiddled with the zipper of his jacket. "Wow, I never knew I was gay before." Eric pat his shoulder as he continued to mull it over. "What will Stan think?"

"He'll think; Oh, look you guys, there's that other little faggot. Let's invited him over to my house and we can have a sleep over and listen to the New Kids on the Block."

"Wow." Butters smiled.

Eric frowned at his rumbling stomach. "So, what the hell are you waiting for? Get out there and be the best damn faggot you can be before Kyle steals your guy!"

"Yes, sir!"

* * *

The _idea_ of eating something besides soup was a lot more appealing than actually _eating _it. Stan decided this rather grimly as he poked at the food on his tray. At this point, the only thing he was interested in downing was a full bottle of Pepto-Bismol. Strange, considering he hadn't any trouble devouring a bowl of cereal that morning. Maybe he wasn't as over his sickness as he originally thought.

_Bullshit._

It was Cartman and his earlier accusations that were really plaguing him. It was like a slap in the face. Him and Kyle joked around about being "involved" for kicks now and then, but never once had the idea of it being literal ever crossed his mind. The thing that concerned him the most was the fact that, though it wasn't appealing, the idea didn't repulse him either. He sighed and leaned his cheek against his palm as he swirled his plastic spoon.

He felt a slight nudge in his ribs. "You should eat that before it eats you."

He cracked a smile at Kyle's suggestion.

"It's not that bad." Kenny defended.

"Your opinion doesn't count. You eat anything."

Kenny's eyebrows furrowed as he flung a scoop of "green" at Kyle. The gooey glob flew smoothly and landed with a loud splat in the middle of his forehead. He gasped loudly and crossed his eyes upward to try and see it, sending his two friends into a fit of hysterical laughter. It was only moments before he himself began to giggle.

"Okay, Kenny," He said as he wiped off the mess and splat it on the floor. "Normally, I'd get back at you. But, I'll cut you a break since you got Stan to laugh."

Kenny's eyes shifted to the mentioned boy. "Yeah. You haven't even smiled since this morning, what's up?"

Stan frowned and diverted his attention back to his food. "I don't know." He lied.

"I think I do." Kyle spoke up.

Stan's head snapped upward. "You do?"

He nodded and swallowed a spoonful of orange. "You're nervous about the play."

A wave of nausea washed over him at the reminder. Kyle was right. That _was _bothering him, just not as much as other things.

"You have plenty to be worried about. The last rehearsal _is _today, and this time you have to do the kissing scene."

"Thanks for the encouraging words." Stan replied.

Kenny shrugged. "It's just Wendy. What's the big deal?"

"What's the big deal?" Stan parroted. "I don't think I've even talked to her since she broke up with me in the fourth grade. And our asshole teacher just throws us together in the most romantic love story ever written?"

"Don't take it personally. Our teacher doesn't know about your past." Kyle reasoned. "She only gave the two of you the main parts because you're both the best looking."

Stan returned his friends smile with a hint of embarrassment.

Kenny laughed. "You won't have the main part for long if you puke on her during rehearsal."

"Hey, that's right." Kyle confirmed around a laugh. "Think you've got a stronger stomach nowadays, Casanova?"

"I don't know. I don't think I've liked anyone as much as I liked Wendy. So, it's hard to say." He answered.

"Do you still like her?" Kyle asked.

"I like her." Kenny announced.

Kyle snorted. "That doesn't count either."

"I don't hate her." Stan answered the question with a touch of reluctance. "I hate what she did. But… the thought of kissing her does make me feel queasy." He smiled devilishly. "In the good way."

Kenny laughed and Kyle scooted away a bit. "You aren't gonna be sick thinking about it, are you?"

He smiled. "No. But if you sit a little closer we can find out."

Kyle laughed. "I think I'll take your word for it."

Any trace of humor was wiped away when Cartman set a tray of food on the table and took his usual seat next to Kenny. "Hey, Stan? Why do you keep skittles in your pocket?"

The look that said he was about as nutty as Chinese chicken salad hit each of his friends faces one at a time, like dominos in a row.

"What?" Stan asked.

"It's just that, I've got this strange feeling." He closed his eyes and held his hands out, as if he were feeling an invisible bubble around Stan. "Yes… yes, I can- I can feel the rainbows springing off you."

Kenny chuckled, Kyle glowered, and Stan seemed even more confused.

"What are you talking about, Cartman?" He asked.

Eric lowered his hands and opened his eyes. "You know how they have those commercials where all those gay people want to taste the rainbow? Well, Stan, you _are _that rainbow."

"Stop it, Cartman. Just stop it!" Kyle snapped.

"I'm seriously, you guys. Stan's a fucking gay magnet. I can sense it."

"Me too." Kenny squeaked around laughs.

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about, fat boy." Stan accused.

"Oh no?" He asked good-naturedly. "We'll just see about that."

Stan's anger now matched his best friend's. "Look, I've only been back half a day and I'm already sick of all this psychic bullshit you're trying to-" His sentence was cut off the second he felt arms encircle him from behind.

Everyone's expression now registered shock. Everyone's except for Eric, who sat calmly with a little smile.

Stan glanced upward. "Butters," He kept perfectly still as he spoke. "Why- why are you hugging me?"

He squeezed a little tighter. "Because I like you."

Stan abruptly stood, spilling his carton of milk and knocking Butters to the floor in the process. "That's it, I'm outta here!" He sprinted out the cafeteria as Kenny and Cartman burst into laughter.

"Butters!" Kyle hissed at the frowning boy. "How could you stoop this low!"

Butter's glanced from Kyle to the exit and back. "Wu-what did I do?"

"You know damn well what you did!" He spat. "Teaming up with Cartman to trick Stan!"

"What!" Butter's exclaimed. "I wasn't tryin' to trick him, Kyle. I really like him."

Kyle's expression turned passive. "What?"

"Well," Butter's spread his arms wide. "I'm gay."

Kenny pounded his fists on the table as another wave of hysteria coursed him. Kyle turned wide eyes toward Eric.

"Don't be jealous, Kyle." He soothed with a wicked smile. "I have a feeling you and Stan will kiss before he totally ditches you."

"Cartman, when are you going to die!" He shrieked, and angrily swung his legs over the bench to leave. He stopped short when his shoe crunched something that had fallen out of Stan's pocket. Kyle reached down and picked up the palm-sized package.

Skittles.

* * *

_-BratChild3 (Lisha)_


	4. Lucky Charms

**Authors Note: **Reviews are nice. :)

* * *

**Chapter 4- Lucky Charms:**

****

It was getting unbearably painful to watch any longer. It didn't even matter that it were only a play, designed to falsely entrap people into believing the characters playing the parts actually _felt _that way about one another. It didn't matter because the two of them didn't look like they were acting at all. It was much too real. He didn't like to feel jealous, especially over a tree-hugging hippie whore and an overly-sensitive animal lover. They were so perfect for each other it made him sick. There was only one thing that could make him feel better at a time like this;

Pissing off Kyle.

His eyes zeroed in on his pray, who was standing off to the side, whispering and giggling with Kenny. The way they leaned against one another in laughter was almost as nauseating as the two on stage.

_Typical Jew._ Cartman thought with and irritated grunt. If Stan wasn't there to flirt with, he'd corrupt Kenny. Not that Kenny wasn't already corrupted. In fact, if he wasn't mistaken, Cartman had seen the pervert give both Kyle and Stan once-overs when the two weren't looking. He thought of everyone, including his friends, as "eye-candy".

Kenny nudged the snickering Kyle and pointed toward the stage. "Five bucks says he'll puke all over her." His arms sprung forward for visual effect.

"Yeah, you're probably right." Kyle readily agreed. "But I'll bet in Stan's favor, you need the money."

"I'm not worried about the money. If he gets her shirt wet we might be able to see through it."

Kyle grinned. "Maybe you should have mentioned that to him so he can aim in that direction."

"Hey, Stan-" Kenny cupped his hands around his mouth like a megaphone, but Kyle quickly pulled him back, where they both began snickering again. They stifled their laughter at the teachers death glare and turned their attention toward the stage.

Kyle grinned as he looked at Stan. He looked nervous, even when he was suppose to simply be lying there, dead and stiff. He certainly had the stiff part down. In fact, he was so tense he looked like a piece of plywood.

"Sorry to break your heart, but Juliet wasn't a stupid Jew."

Kyle turned his attention from the school's stage, already angry as he faced Cartman. "What the hell are you flapping your gums about now?"

Cartman could feel his soul laughing on the inside, though his exterior remained cool. "I can see right through you, Kyle. You want to be Juliet. You want to feel Stan's lips pressed against yours in a timeless kiss that will leave you craving more."

Kyle could feel himself begin to shake with fury. The fat-ass had been at it all day. _All day. _It was amazing the way he could find one subject to annoy someone with and not get bored of it after a while. He had freaked Stan out so badly, he refused to come to class after the lunch bell rang. The only good part was the fact that Kyle had gotten out of class as well to "calm his psychotic friend", as the teacher so bluntly put it. Stan hadn't been "psychotic", only a little spazzed about Cartman's seemingly accurate predictions and the fact that he'd just been hugged by an openly gay Butters. But Stan was a smart kid, and it didn't take much to convince him that Cartman was full of shit. Which he was.

"Could you please just grab a hold of whatever decency you have in that over-sized body and shut the hell up about me and Stan!" Kyle's shout echoed.

This gained the attention of every individual in the room, Wendy included, who's lips had been a half inch from Stan's.

"Stop, stop, _stop!_" Their teacher demanded at the interruption.

Wendy sighed, stood up straight and crossed her arms across her chest. Stan sat up from the prop where he lay and rubbed his lips as though she had actually kissed him, though his eyes locked with Kyle's questioningly.

"Is there a reason you have disrupted my play, Mr. Broflovski?" Miss Brown asked.

"Yeah, Cartman's a stupid asshole!" He answered, pointing angrily to emphasize his point.

The accused waved it off. "Don't mind Kyle, Miss Brown. He's on his period."

"You see what I'm talking about!"

"No, but they see what _I'm _talking about, Mr. PMS." Cartman assured.

"Enough!" The teacher wailed dramatically. "If you disrupt my play one more time, the two of you will be giving our stars a preview of what the kissing scene will look like, and you will do it together."

The threatened duo's eyes widened in fear, though they kept their mouths clamped. It was Miss Brown's favorite way of punishing her students; making their worst fears come true. No one knew for sure if she would actually follow through with her threats, but no one was brave enough to test her. She appeared to be shy, with her skinny, hunched figure and rusty colored hair she always wore in a fashion that resembled a falling beehive. Beneath the surface beat the heart of a witch. Kenny had once voiced his opinion that she was most likely a dominatrix in her spare time. They had all agreed.

"Now please resume your position, we'll take it from the point of Juliet's awakening."

Stan cast a quick glance at Wendy, who still refused to look at him, and slowly laid back. His eyes were closed, preventing him from seeing what she was doing. But he could hear her as she spoke, sweet and perfect, just like everything else about her. It was _the moment _now, and he could feel her lean over him. Closer and closer she came, slowly but surely. He could feel her breath against his skin, and smell the light fragrance he remembered so well.

That's when he opened his eyes.

"Mis-_ter _Marsh!" Miss. Brown slapped at him with the script she held. "What kind of an idiot do you think I am?"

He scoffed, then shrugged. "I don't know. What kind are you?"

Kyle had to burry his face in Kenny's shoulder to muffle the laughter he bit back at the smart-ass reply. Stan really did not want to do this play. So much so that he was literally risking a life-sentence of detention. In a way, he couldn't blame the poor guy. Wendy had been giving him the cold shoulder all day, and the purple circles beneath his eyes were becoming more visible by the second. It was obvious he still wasn't feeling one-hundred percent yet.

"Not the kind that can be swayed by your tactics, I can assure you." She threatened.

"What tactics? I don't have any tactics."

"You think that if you do a shameful rehearsal that I will replace you with the understudy." She announced. "I will worn you now, Stanley, that you _are _my Romeo. I will post-pone this play and hold rehearsal after school every day of the week until you get it right. You should also know that if I can't make this play come together, there is another we _will _do. It's set in Scotland and you will _all _be required to wear kilts."

Stan frowned. "You mean those little skirt things?"

"Precisely." She answered with a glint in her eyes.

"Don't get too excited, Kyle." Cartman whispered. "You don't want to cum all over those pretty tights you're wearing."

"Show's how much you know. These aren't tights, they're leggings. And for your information, I have to wear them for the stupid play."

"Oh, so you _would _cream yourself if you saw Stan in a skirt."

"Cartman-" He started in a threatening tone.

"Why are you blushing, Kyle?"

"I'm _not-"_

"Yes, you are. Why don't you just ask if you can be Juliet? You know you want to. You're thinking about it right now. Go on, Kyle, give Stan a little kiss. Show Wendy what real passion looks like."

"God, _shut-up _Cartman! Just shut the hell up!"

"Okay, on stage." Miss Brown announced. "Come on." She encouraged, motioning them with her finger. "You two are going to show Wendy and Stanley how to do this scene properly."

Kenny immediately burst into laughter, regardless of what the consequences may be. "Go on, Cartman, give Kyle a little kiss. You know you want to." He mocked.

"Shut-up, Kenny!" Cartman hissed in response, gaining nothing but Stan's laughter along with Kenny's.

"Hey, shut the hell up, Stan! This isn't funny!" Kyle pointed out, to which Stan unsuccessfully tried to hide his amusement behind his hands.

"Well?" Miss Brown planted her hands on her hips. "We're all waiting."

Kyle's eyes shifted to the stage and back. "I can't do it."

"And why is that?" The teacher questioned.

"It's against my religion to kiss fat-asses."

"Aye!" Cartman exclaimed.

"If you insist on being the center of attention, you will do it while helping to rehearse this play. Otherwise I suggest that you keep your mouth shut. This _is _your final warning."

Cartman flipped her off when she turned around. "This is your final warning." He mimicked in a girly voice. "Fuckin' bitch."

Now he was really pissed. If he couldn't keep himself amused by taunting Kyle, he would have no choice but to watch Wendy taint herself with Stan's mouth. His eyes sought and found her pretty blue ones. She was staring at Stan, biting her lip thoughtfully.

"Miss Brown, I need to talk to Stan alone for a minute." She announced, completely deflating Cartman's heart and not even realizing it.

The teacher sighed heavily. "Very well, Wendy. Please make it quick."

Without a word, she grabbed Stan's hand and pulled him backstage, stopping just beyond the curtain.

"Wendy?" He asked, obviously confused at her sudden need to talk to him.

"I know things have been weird between us ever since _it _happened." She began immediately. He blinked once, a little stumped at the way she called their break-up '_it'._ He had never heard it put quite that way before. "I know you hate me for what I did-"

"I don't hate you, Wendy." He cut her off. They were too absorbed in one another to even notice as Cartman snuck passed, eavesdropping on their conversation.

It was her turn to look surprised. "You don't?"

He shook his head. "No. I did. For a long time. But then I realized that I didn't hate you. I was just hurt."

"I'm sorry." She cast her eyes down at the shiny floor, missing Cartman as he snuck passed again, closer this time. "I don't want to have to feel weird around you anymore, Stan. Despite what you may think, I do still care about you."

He felt a small smile involuntarily curve his lips, but she continued seriously.

"Being tense and awkward around each other is the reason this play is going so badly. I thought maybe we could have a truce, clear the way so we can give this our best. Deal?"

He found himself unable to resist returning her smile in full. "Deal."

Her smile widened as she leaned in and hugged him tightly, only to snap back, wide eyed at the sudden commotion of a metal object clattering to the ground.

"Cartman!" She exclaimed angrily when she spotted him in the shadows.

"Oh, I'm sorry. My bad." He apologized, sounding anything but sorry.

"What are you doing back here, fat boy?" Stan's irritation was evident.

Wendy elbowed him. "Stan, that isn't nice."

"I don't need to be nice to him, he's an asshole."

"Hey, screw you, you hippie loving gay wad!" Cartman shot back.

"Fuck you, fat ass." Stan cursed and disappeared through the curtain.

Cartman's glare deepened, if that were at all possible. "Ass rammer." He spoke beneath his breath.

"Why do you have to be that way?" She asked, completely fed-up.

"What way?" He asked innocently.

"Immature and inconsiderate." She stated. "You should try to be more thoughtful. If you did, people might actually start to like you. Look at Stan; He has the biggest heart in all of South Park, and everyone loves him."

"Yeah, all the rainbow children." He remarked around a half-laugh, half-cough.

"I'm serious." She stressed. "You really should take a step back and really look at the way you treat other people."

He sneezed loudly. "Excuse me, I'm allergic to nagging bitches."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "You really are an asshole." With that, she followed Stan's footsteps back onto the stage.

"Yep," Cartman sniffed and ran his fingers through his hair. "She wants me."

* * *

"That was _thee _biggest pile of puke I've ever seen!"

"Shut up, Cartman."

"No, I'm seriously. I'm surprised they didn't need to bring in a snow plow to dig her out."

"Shut _up, _Cartman."

"It's gonna take her weeks to get the chunks out of her hair."

"_Shut up, Cartman!"_

"Alright, alright. Jesus crap, Kyle, you need to give your boyfriend a blowjob before he explodes."

"I'll give him one." Kenny offered.

"Kenny… Goddamnit." Stan cursed.

"No, seriously. I will."

Stan huffed, shook his head and looked at the ground as they continued their walk home. The bus had long since gone, considering they were held for the 6th grade play dress rehearsal. He shuddered as he thought of the mortifying last ten minutes.

"_Don't barf on me."_ Wendy had joked, moments before pressing her lips against his. It was sweet and gentle, enjoyable. But it only took one comment from the fat ass to change it all.

"_Don't you wish that were you instead of Wendy, Kyle?"_ Stan had heard Cartman asked.

It was that exact moment Stan had thought of Kyle hovering over him, lips pressed lightly against his. He felt his stomach flip-flop, and he puked.

_Everywhere_.

His thoughts snapped back to reality when Kenny's hand touched his shoulder. "Just name the time and the place."

He was still talking about blowjobs. Sometimes, with Kenny, it was hard to tell whether or not he was joking. And that was a scary thought.

"You shut up too, Kenny!" Kyle snapped.

"Jealous?" Kenny smirked.

"Of what?"

"Of _me_, because I'm going to give Stan a blowjob and you're not."

"I don't want you to give me a blow job, Kenny." Stan announced dryly.

"Yeah, he wants Kyle to give him one." Cartman amended.

"No, he doesn't." Kenny argued.

Kyle rolled his eyes. "He'd want one from me before he'd want one from you."

"Why the hell are you arguing about this?" Stan interrupted, rather annoyed.

Kyle was the first to answer. "All I'm saying is that if you did want one of us to give you a blow job, it would be me."

Stan shoved his hands in his pockets and swallowed hard, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. It seemed that him and Kyle took turns being the sane, mature one. Apparently it was his turn. He could sense Kyle frown at his lack of comment.

"It would be me, wouldn't it?"

"Kyle… What the hell difference does it make?"

"It makes a huge difference!"

"Fine, I'd choose you. Happy?"

It was now Kenny's turn to feel abandon. "I could make you moan louder."

"Fine." Stan changed his mind darkly. "Kenny."

"What?" Kyle's expression radiated betrayal. "Who's fucking friend are you anyway!"

"Look!" Stan shouted, suddenly coming to a stop. "I don't want a fucking blowjob from either of you, got it?"

The two glanced at each other.

"Then you want one from Cartman?" Kenny asked.

"No!"

"Miffy, the get better bear?" Kyle asked, breaking into a bright smile.

Stan hesitated a moment. Of course Kyle had been joking the entire time. He must be completely brain dead to have thought otherwise. Somehow he managed to refrain from smacking himself on the forehead, and instead began laughing. "You're so full of shit, dude." He teased, giving Kyle a playful punch in the stomach.

Cartman moaned in disgust. "Get a fuckin' room, you faggots."

Kyle took every chance he got to get back at Cartman for all the things he had done. And this was one of those times he saw a golden opportunity. There was no way he would let it slip away, and all it took for Stan to understand was a simple smirk from his best friend. He smiled back, not knowing exactly what his plan was, but already glad he thought of it.

"Actually, Cartman, that's exactly what we're going to do." Kyle announced, placing an arm around Stan's shoulders.

"What?" Cartman asked, his expression suddenly blank.

"Your psychic abilities must be fading fast."

Kenny had caught on by this point, and decided he didn't want to be left out. "You knew about the skittles, but you forgot Kyle's Lucky Charms."

Stan nodded. "He's magically delicious." His tongue slowly licked the perimeter of his lips.

Cartman's wide-eyed, slack jawed, terror stricken expression was too much. Kyle was the first to crack, followed shortly after by Stan and Kenny.

"Oh… Oh, God I hate you guys!" He wailed the moment he understood the prank, causing their laughter to grow.

"Did you…" Kyle started, breaking off on a laugh. "Did you see your face?" He collapsed against Stan, who was already leaning against Kenny in laughter.

Cartman's face twisted in anger. What pissed him off more than Kyle and Stan screwing with him was when Kenny decided to become a trader and join them. "Laugh while you can, you pussies." He threatened. "It wont be so funny when you realize you really do want to blow each other."

"Whatever, Cartman." Stan shrugged it off.

"You can already feel it, Stan." He promised. "I can sense it, and you're going to go through hell trying to make sense of what the hell is going on."

At this point, Stan's laughter had completely vanished. Something about the way he said it made him believe that just maybe there was some truth behind it.

"Same goes for you, Jew boy." He hissed at the still-giggling Kyle. "It wont be so funny when Stan abandons you for someone else. Then I'll be the one laughing. Until then… Screw you guys, I'm going home."

* * *

_-Lisha (BratChild3)_


	5. Invisible Cricket

**Authors Note: **Once again, thank you. XD You know, if anyone ever wants to chat or whatever, feel free. I don't bite. :P I know you guys like this chapter; so how bout them reviews this time around? You know you wanna.

* * *

**Chapter 5- Invisible Cricket:**

The orange rays of the late sun peaked through the side of the curtains, casting an oddly shaped spot of light on the carpet. It sort of resembled a duck, if the duck had a broken wing and a retarded frog on its head. His eyes were drawn to it, held prisoner on its brightness although he wasn't even seeing it at all. His mind had wandered to a distant place, creating a blank expression on his soft features.

His best friend resided in front of the couch, lain out on his stomach with his legs bent upward. His hands clutched each side of the script set before him as he continued to read the lines out loud, oblivious to the fact that he was the only one listening to himself.

"…For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss."

_Silence._

"And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss." Kyle repeated, keeping his eyes on the script. His lips drew into a thin line as he was greeted once again by the irritating sound of nothing. His legs hit the ground with a thud and he focused up on Stan's zombie-like stare. "Stan!"

He jumped, slammed immediately back down to reality.

"That's your line."

"What line?" He blinked.

Kyle let out a slow hiss of breath. "_Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?_ That's your line, Romeo."

Stan glanced down at the piece of paper on his lap. "Oh."

"_Oh?"_ Kyle repeated. He pushed himself upward. "I'm taking my time to help you, and you aren't even trying! You're the one who's been out sick for two weeks and needs extra practice, not me. I _know _all my lines, all yours and all Wendy's. Tell me, have you memorized _any_?"

Stan blinked again, eyes still unfocused. The paper seemed to stare back at him mockingly, but he didn't even glance at it. "If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this; My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss."

Stan's blank stare never wavered, even as a smile crept up Kyle's face. "So, you _were _listening."

Eyes glazed, his head shook slowly. "No."

Kyle frowned. "Dude, what the hell is wrong with you? You're acting like a zombie. Snap out of it."

Stan swallowed, shook his head as if to clear it. "I was just thinking… of…" He swallowed a second time. "Do you think what Cartman said actually meant anything?"

"Nothing Cartman says means anything." Kyle didn't hesitate to reply. "No, no. I take that back. It means he's a dumbass."

"But what if-"

"I really do want to give you a blowjob?" Kyle finished, one eyebrow raised. He shrugged. "So, what if I did?"

Stan's eyes widened, to which Kyle couldn't help but laugh. "Even if I did, I wouldn't try anything."

"Do you?"

Kyle smirked. "Do you _want _me to?"

Stan grunted, eyes narrowing in annoyance. He knew that smirk. He wasn't taking this seriously at all. "Kyle, I mean it. Everything he's said so far has actually happened."

"Why are you letting this bother you?" His tone was a mixture of demand, patience, and frustration as he slapped his hands down onto the script.

"Why _isn't _it bother _you_?" Stan questioned back. "You're the one who's always pissed at what Cartman has to say."

"Yeah, because I think he's a douche, not because I believe what he's saying." His voice softened when he realized this was bugging Stan more than it should. "Look, if I suddenly get the urge to rip off your pants and suck you dry, I'll let you know and we can figure out what to do about it. Until then, fuck it, dude, because Cartman's full of shit and it probably wont happen. Now, we really should get back to work."

Stan glanced downward, suddenly finding his fingers immensely interesting. Maybe Kyle was right. It wouldn't be the first time, after all. Kyle was _way _smarter than Cartman, not only in book sense, but also common sense. Still, something about it kept gnawing at him. _What if _they ever did develop those sort of feelings for each other? It could totally destroy their friendship. He should be glad him and Kyle didn't have that problem, and he was. But, something still ate at him.

"… That part is a little trickier than most, so we should go over that one more time." Kyle was still babbling on.

"What part?" Stan questioned, still gazing at his fingertips.

Kyle glanced at his friend again, taking in his solemn expression and the worry lines between his brows. He didn't understand why, of all things, Stan was letting _this _bother him. They both knew there wasn't anything between them. They both knew Cartman's words were spoken out of spite. Yet still he seemed disturbed at the words. Kyle sighed, glanced at the script, the clock, then his friend. There was only one way to cure the tension; lighten it with a joke.

"Okay, Stan," Kyle clamped his script inside an English text book.

"Okay, what?"

"I'm going to prove to you that Cartman's predictions are bullshit." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the tube of chap stick his mother insisted he take because of the dry weather. He never planned on using it, but it seemed like a nice touch to play out.

"How?" Stan failed miserably to keep the panic out of his voice as he watched Kyle apply the lip ointment thickly and sloppily.

He smiled brightly, snapped on the cap and threw it to the side as he advanced mischievously toward Stan.

"Kyle, why are you looking at me that way?" He asked frantically, pressing himself against the cushions of the couch. "Kyle?"

Kyle slapped his hands lightly onto Stan's thighs and leaned forward. "I'm going to kiss you. So pucker up, Romeo."

That was all it took. He never even felt the bile rise within his throat. All either of them knew was that a second later, a burst of puke emerged from Stan and exploded all over Kyle.

"Ah, sick, Dude! Sick!" Kyle wailed and immediately ran for the upstairs bathroom, screaming that barf was gross the whole way up.

Stan remained on the couch, mouth agape, paralyzed at the events that had just unfolded. His stomach was still a flutter, twisting and turning as his heart slammed against his ribs like a maniac in a padded cell.

_Thwack! Thwak! Thwak!_

It beat so hard he could hear it in his ears and feel his pulse points throbbing. What the _hell _just happened? Well, that was a stupid fucking question if there ever was one. He _knew _what happened. Kyle was about to kiss him and he puked liked an idiot. He felt his heart plummet again as Kyle's words swirled his head.

_I'm going to kiss you._

He shivered violently. If Cartman was purposely trying to make him delusional, he deserved a gold medal, because it sure as hell was working.

"Stan, I'm borrowing a shirt!" Kyle shouted from upstairs.

Stan gazed up at the ceiling, as if he could see Kyle though it, just as the doorbell sounded. His line of vision shifted toward the door before making any attempt at answering it. With a bit of reluctance, he ran a hand through his hair, knocking off his hat and messing up the dark tresses before opening the door to face the annoying person taking full advantage of his doorbell rights.

"Oh… Hi, Stan."

Stan glowered. "What the hell are you doing here?" His eyes narrowed further as the visitor began his irritating knuckle-clanking habit.

"I just wanted to make sure you weren't mad at me, auh-about yesterday."

"You mean when you hugged me and told me you liked me?" Stan asked dryly.

Butters slipped his hands behind his back and began rocking on his shoes. "Well, yeah. I didn't mean to scare you or nuthin."

"Why'd you do it, Butters?" He demanded. "Why'd you have to unleash your gaydom on _me_?"

The shorter boy's eyes glanced around, a telltale sign his anxiety was increasing. "I… I just wanted you to know-"

"Maybe I _didn't _want to know." Stan snapped. He was being an asshole, and he knew it. But at the moment his mind was too mixed-up to care. He knew he would feel bad about this later on and end up calling to apologize. Even still, he couldn't stop himself. "Don't hug me again, Butters. I don't care if you're gay, just don't be gay near me."

He looked like he could cry at any given moment by this point, but his eyes remained miraculously dry. "I thought that… heck, Kyle hugged you, a-and-"

"Kyle's different."

Butters looked up from his stare on the carpet with a heartbreaking expression. His lower lip quivered slightly as he spoke. "Is he your boyfriend?"

"_What?"_

"Stan," Kyle shouted, blindly making his way down the stairs as he tried to pull one of Stan's shirts over his head. "Since your bodily fluids dripped off my chin and all over my pants like a waterfall, I'm wearing a pair of yours." He pulled the end of the sweater and let his head pop through. "Hey, Butters."

Stan slapped his hand against his forehead and squeezed his eyes closed as Butters eyes widened.

"What?" Kyle asked. "What'd I say?"

Butter's turned, giving one last glance at Stan's messy hair before walking away, hands in pockets and head hung low.

Stan, still covering his eyes, closed the door and faced Kyle. "Dude," He stressed, and looked up at his friend. "That sounded so wrong."

They stared at one another as the seconds ticked by, and finally began laughing.

"Maybe Butters will leave you alone now that he thinks we're screwing each other." Kyle mused humorously.

Stan paused. "Wait, what if he's a spy for Cartman?"

Kyle waved his hand in dismissal. "Look on the bright side. If lard boy does find out, he'll die. Maybe out of laughter, maybe out of shock, but he'll die."

Stan chuckled at the thought, suddenly feeling more at ease from earlier.

"Want to practice some more lines, or do you think you got it?"

"I'm burnt out on Shakespeare." Stan whined.

"You sure? We go on tomorrow night."

"Positive."

"Okay." Kyle confirmed, and began gathering his notes, book and script. "You can have your clothes back when I get mine back. They're upstairs."

"Keep it, looks good on you."

Kyle hesitated in the doorway, an unfamiliar sensation consuming his stomach as he took in Stan's perfect, Crest toothpaste smile. He shook his head and blinked heavily. "See you tomorrow."

His shoes crunched in the snow as he walked away, not even thinking about where he was going. It was funny, really, the way there was a path of shoe-imprinted snow linking his house and Stan's. They went back and forth between the two houses so often that the snow never got the chance to cover the trail.

He hugged himself against the chill of the evening beginning to set in, and smiled as a puff of air rose from the material of his shirt. It smelled like Stan. _He _smelled like Stan. The thought filled him with a warmth that oddly enough made him shudder.

"What are you so happy about? Get laid?"

Kyle glanced upward in time to see Kenny fall into step beside him. Realizing he was still grinning like a reject, he immediately relaxed his face, but unconsciously hugged himself tighter.

Kenny shot out another question, not even giving Kyle the chance to answer the first. "Isn't that Stan's sweater?" His furrowed eyebrows shot up suddenly. "Shit, dude! You _did _get laid!"

"No, no!" Kyle denied, waving his hands as if it could help prove his innocence.

"Don't be embarrassed, Kyle. If I were you, I'd parade around in an '_I fucked Stan' _T-shirt!" Kenny exclaimed. "You lucky son of a bitch."

Kyle choked on a laugh, though he quickly regained his composure. "That's just it. I _didn't _fuck Stan."

"But you sucked him."

"No."

"He sucked you?"

"_No, _Kenny."

"Oh, manual stimulation."

"Kenny!"

His eyes squinted into lemon shapes, indicating his smile hidden beneath the parka. "I'm warning you now, Kyle. If you don't screw him, I will." He paused a moment. "I probably will anyway-"

"You're not joking when you flirt with him, are you?"

"Hell no!"

Kyle shook his head. "I just don't understand you."

"I don't understand _you." _Kenny threw back. "Just look at him, he's all… look at him. Really, not as your best friend. Then tell me you don't understand."

"I'm just not that way-"

Kenny cut him off with a snort. "There's no such thing as _that way._ You don't have to be into pink and fruit loops to get a boner over another guy. You don't even have to be _bi_ to get hard over another guy. You may not be gay, Kyle, but you love Stan. You love him so much he would make you hard if you only let him."

"Is that you trying to be touching and beautiful?" Kyle asked skeptically.

Kenny shook his head, causing blonde bangs to fall across sky blue eyes. "Nuh uh. That's me telling you that you're a fuckin' dumbshit for not figuring this out on your own."

"I told you, it's just not that way with us."

"Just keep telling yourself that." Kenny spoke beneath his breath.

The image of Stan's commercial worthy smile flashed across his mind, bringing about the return of the unfamiliar _feeling _in his stomach. Not bad exactly, just… _different. _He glanced at Kenny again, suspicion settling in. "You've been talking to Cartman, haven't you?"

Kenny was silent a moment, watching the tree's as they passed. "Cartman's smart when it comes to figuring people out."

Kyle scoffed, angrily kicking a mound of snow. "No, but he's a mastermind at manipulation."

"You still haven't told me why you're in Stan's clothes." Kenny pointed out.

Kyle glanced down at his attire and smiled again. "Oh, Stan barfed on me when I tried to kiss him." He stiffened, realizing a moment too late that he had just screwed himself.

Kenny was now chuckling. "Not that way, huh?"

Kyle scowled. "Kenny, go fuck yourself." He spat as they came up to his yard.

"You know, I just might do that." He announced, not at all ashamed or put off. "Like you aren't yummy in my tummy, delicious enough, we _had _to talk about Stan and sex."

"Just leave now!" Kyle shouted, pointing far away.

Kenny laughed as he walked away, fueling Kyle's anger. He could feel his cheeks hot with scarlet coloring, and he didn't even know _why. _Feeling guilty somehow, he decided against going in and facing his mother, and instead opted to sit on the pouch, hanging his head between his knees.

_Looks good on you._

A smile returned when he thought of Stan's earlier words. His heart stalled when he realized something; He was still hugging himself.

He wasn't cold.

He wasn't hugging _himself_ for the warmth, he was hugging the _sweater_.

"Well, if it isn't a blushing, Jewish fag." Cartman stopped on his way passed. "In…" His smirk fell. "Stan's clothes." He blinked his wide, round eyes several times. "What the hell?"

Kyle resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I fucked him."

"What?"

"You heard me, fat ass, I fucked Stan." He announced, hoping to God his mother couldn't hear him. "He gave me his sweater to remind me of him, because I didn't want to leave."

Silence followed, and Kyle swore he could hear a cricket somewhere in the distance. You could _always _hear a cricket if things got too quiet too fast. It was some sort of unwritten law. But, the imaginary cricket was hushed by Cartman's outburst of mocking laughter.

"You did not!"

Kyle grit his teeth and slammed his fists onto his knees. "What's it going to take to make you shut the hell up, Cartman? _What? _I deny that there's something between me and Stan, and you don't believe me. I tell you there is, and you _still _don't believe me!"

"That's because you are a Jew, and Jews are liars and schemers." He ignored the extremely pissed growl directed at him and went on. "You and Stan will never get that far. I know you're lying to me, because _I_ am a psychic. I see all, I know all."

"Then how come you don't know what I'm about to do?"

He frowned curiously. "What are you about to do?"

Kyle's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits and with lightening speed, slammed his fist into Cartman's face.

* * *

_-BratChild3)_I miss being BC2 (


	6. Cookie Slapped

**Chapter 6- Cookie Slapped.**

Slow and steady was the way to go. At least that's what her mother always told her about sewing. The technique seemed to be going over smoothly enough as she weaved the colorful thread in and out, securing the button eye that had come loose from her childhood dolly. She jerked at the chime of the doorbell, sending the needle into her index finger.

"_Ouch!" _She yelped, and immediately placed the dot of blood into her mouth, glaring in the direction of the distraction. She pulled her finger out and looked it over when the bell sounded a second time. Setting "Dolly" aside, she got up and moved to the front of the house.

Quiet curses about "damn Jews" and "faggy assholes" could be heard in grumbles outside the front door. She recognized the voice immediately, and was piqued with curiosity as she reached for the knob to answer the persistent knocking.

"Cartman?" Wendy's voice was heavy with concern. "What happened to your eye?"

He rubbed lightly at the soreness. "A cookie… accident." He replied hesitantly.

"A cookie accident?" She parroted shrilly.

He looked around, trying to think of a logical story. "I was going to dunk it in milk, and it… got pissed off and it… jumped up and slapped me."

"Humph," She remarked, inspecting the damage. The entire area around his eye was puffy and red, with clear knuckle impressions at the top. "Looks like a fist mark."

"It was a _big ass _cookie!" He exclaimed. There was no way in hell he was about to tell the hottest girl in the world that he'd just been punched by a Jewish pussy. A cookie attack may not be anything to be proud of, but it was certainly better than the truth.

"Do you want to come inside?" She asked. " I can get you something to make the swelling go down."

He held back a laugh, thinking of the way Kenny would have found a double meaning to that. "You think I really want to stand out here in the snow? You're damn right I wanna come in!"

She huffed and led him inside. There was something about her that was like an antidote to his anger. Ironically, It pissed him off in a way, how easy it had become for him to be nice to her because of that. He didn't _like _being nice. He liked to piss people off and screw them over. He had to maintain some of that underlying bastard he knew himself to be.

"So, what's a hoe like you doing home by yourself? Shouldn't you be prowling the streets by now?"

"The good lays aren't out until after ten." She replied sarcastically. "Sit." She indicated the couch and disappeared into the kitchen.

He grunted, steamed at her commanding him as if he were a dog. He took up the offer however, and she returned a moment later with an icepack and settled herself beside him. The corners of his mouth curved upward at the feeling of her knee pressing against his thigh.

"This will help," She assured, and gently pressed it to his eye.

His hand rose up to hers slowly, and cupped it beneath his. Her skin was soft, like marshmallows… or something. She didn't bother to pull away, and he could almost swear he saw her hide a smile.

"Why are you here?"

"You invited me in." He smart mouthed with a grin.

She tried to keep a straight face, but lost the battle as a perfect smile brightened her face. In a way, she couldn't help but wish he could be more _happy _and _calm _more often.

"You're really pretty when you smile." He heard his voice tell her without any permission from his brain, and silently cursed himself for lack of control. "I mean, you know, for a hippie."

Her smile widened. "That's sweet. " She shoved him playfully with her free hand. "For an asshole."

He could feel his skin tingling on top of her hand, where her knee touched, and where she had lightly pressed his shoulder back. Blue eyes held him prisoner in a steady gaze, and if he were honest with himself, he could admit that he lost himself in her and completely forgot the reason he had come, the most important thing in the whole world; getting back at Kyle and Stan.

"You did come here for a reason," She pressed lightly, urging him to tell her.

It took him a moment to find his voice amongst the constricting of his throat. "You think maybe you wanna hang out tomorrow night?"

Her shock was indescribable, yet she was able to hide it completely behind a cool front. "The school play is tomorrow night." She reminded him.

_"Exactly." _His mind laughed cruelly. He knew how important this play was to Miss Brown, how she would _make _it perfect no matter what. Wendy had an understudy, but he also knew that the understudy hadn't bothered to learn any of the lines. Kyle, on the other hand, being the complete fairy that he was, was the only person who knew all of Juliet's lines. If Wendy never showed up, Kyle would have to go on as Juliet, and he would have to kiss Stan. Just like he predicted.

"Yeah, but school plays are lame." He reasoned.

"Maybe a little-"

"You really want to be humiliated when Stan pukes all over you?" He asked. "Because you're screwing yourself if you think he wont."

"I know." She agreed with a sigh. "But, I can't disappoint everyone. I've worked hard to get all my lines perfect."

"Stop being such a tight ass and have some fun with me." She frowned thoughtfully as he scooped up "Dolly" and faced her toward Wendy. "Come on, Wendy," He spoke in a girly voice. "Go out with Cartman. You know you waaaant to."

The eye popped off the dolls face, cutting off Wendy's musical laughter.

"See that?" Cartman made the doll ask in the same shrill voice. "I'm so sad you wont go, I'm literally crying my eyes out. Boo hoo hoo!"

She began laughing again at his silliness. "It might be-" She started, only to be cut of by the phone ringing.

Cartman sighed, furrowing his eyebrows angrily when Wendy pulled her hand out from beneath his and got up. "God damnit! Stan always has to ruin everything!"

"Stan," She paused with her thumb on the _Talk _button. "What would make you think this is Stan? He hasn't called me in years."

His anger evaporated. Why _had _he thought it was Stan? "I dunno, just a feeling… or something." He answered.

Without another word, she pressed the button and placed the receiver to her ear. "Hello?" She paused a moment, looking back toward Cartman, her mouth making a little 'o' of surprise. "Hi, Stan."

Cartman watched her, surprised himself he had been right.

"Yeah, of course you can. What is it?" She placed her hand over the bottom of the phone and mouthed, "How did you know?" To which he shrugged incoherently. "Yes, it's fine, go on," She spoke to Stan gently and held up a finger to Cartman meaning she would be back in just a moment as she disappeared up the stairs for privacy.

"I hate you, Stan." He spoke into the empty room. "I hate you almost as much as I hate your twinkie boyfriend."

She was gone for a good twenty minutes, to which he used his time to snoop around. Nothing out of the ordinary, just a clean household. He had sunk back onto the couch only moments before she descended the stairs. She paused when she reached the bottom, gracing him with a stinging, black look complete with her phone-cradling hand resting on her shapely hip.

"Damn, Wendy, what the hell crawled up your ass?"

"You told him he was going to develop gay tendencies over Kyle?" It was more of an outraged statement than a question meant to be answered.

"Yeah. So, what?"

"So now he feels weird around his best friend!"

"What a fag." Cartman remarked. "So, what, now he's some sort of stupid ass that goes crawling to you to tattle on me? That's mature."

Wendy returned the phone to it's correct spot and brushed her bangs out of her eyes. "No.

He was calling to tell me he found a solution to his barfing problem for tomorrow. I happen to _know _when something's bothering him, and something clearly was. I asked him, and he told me all about you and your bogus predictions."

"Aye, they aren't bogus!" He defended himself. "I knew who was on the phone, didn't I?"

That made her freeze. She contemplated it for a moment before regaining her glower. "Lucky guess. Stan is not gay. How dare you make him question himself, especially about Kyle! You could totally destroy their friendship!"

"Jesus Christ!" He snapped, and stood up. "If he _really _wasn't a fag, he wouldn't have to question himself, would he? I also happen to know, with my amazing sixth sense, that their friendship is gonna go down the crapper all on its own."

"Just get the hell out of here, Cartman!" She yelled so loudly, everything rattled in its wake. "Anyone that fucks with Stan is someone I want nothing to do with!"

"Go ahead, Wendy, be his little bitch and see how much I care." His expression was passive, his voice calm. "After you realize he's no carpet muncher, I just may accept your apology."

With a hearty shove, she managed to get him out the door and slam it in his face.

Now his plan to get Kyle to play Juliet was shot to hell, not to mention any chance to get Wendy all to himself. The thought sliced at his heart, making him even angrier. "God, I hate those guys!"

-----------

"How you holding up? You look great out there."

Stan placed his hands on his rumbling stomach. "I'm starving. Give me a bite of your food."

"No way, Dude!" Kyle turned, saving the apple he was devouring from Stan's attempt to bite it. "You know you're not suppose have anything until _after _the play is over, that way…"

"I know, I know," Stan cut him off bitterly. "I wont have anything to puke up. _Jesus_."

Kyle's eyes narrowed. "You don't have to be such a dick about it."

"It's okay, Stan." Kenny placed an arm around his shoulders. "I know how to turn that frown upside down. Come into the closet with me."

"Tempting at this point. I'll eat _anything." _Stan mumbled.

Kyle's jaw dropped and Kenny cheered. "Woo hoo! Lets go!" He grabbed both of Stan's hands in his and began walking backward, leading him away into the deep recesses backstage, grinning so large the corners of his mouth were visible at the edges of his hood.

"Sorry, Kenny. He's needed on stage in five." Wendy intervened, linking her arm with Stan's and pulling him away.

"Damnit!" Came the inevitable, muffled curse. His eyes shifted, suddenly hopeful. "Kyle-"

"Forget it." Came the automatic response. "I'm not a hooker like you."

"Just spend five minutes with me alone, and I promise you will be."

"Has Kenny been taking his Dad's Viagra again?" Wendy asked Stan quietly.

Stan burst out laughing, catching everyone else's attention, Cartman included, who stood watching the two viciously in the shadows, like a wolf hunting its prey. Not only was the sight of them getting along again pissing him off to no end, he was also upset his plan hadn't worked out. He had slipped a strong sleeping pill in Wendy's drink before the play had begun. Apparently, she never drank the damn thing. But, it was okay. Another idea had already planted itself. All he needed to do was put it into action as casually as possible. And he knew just the clumsy, no-brainer who could help.

He made his was as inconspicuously as possible toward the broken shell that used to be known as Butters. He had been watching the raven haired stars with every bit as much longing as Cartman had, only his came out in the form of sadness rather than anger.

"Wanna keep Stan from kissing Wendy?"

"Why's it matter?" Came the dreary reply. "Why's anything matter?" His eyes never left Stan, even as he hugged his ex-girlfriend so tight he lifted her into the air. Butters sighed at the image.

Cartman used the cane prop leaning against the wall to whack the love sick mope. "_Bad!"_

"Ow!" Butters screeched, turning to face his abuser. "I didn't do nuthin' to you. What'd you hit me for?" He rubbed his now sore arm with evident frustration.

"For being a pussy." Cartman answered. "Now suck it up and listen; If you want to keep Stan from kissing that slut, here's what you've got to do…" He leaned in for confidentiality, glancing around before whispering in his ear.

"I don't wanna." Butters denied immediately. "I-I'll get in trouble again."

"Not if it's an accident." Cartman stated.

Miss Brown chose that moment to whoosh passed, completely ignoring them. "I need my Romeo and Juliet for the final scene." She sung.

"Go!" Cartman demanded, shoving Butter's in the general direction of Wendy and Stan.

He stumbled a bit, but quickly regained his balance. He eyed the couple a moment, who were busy straightening each other's costumes out, and took a deep breath. Scanning the surrounding area, he located a small box piled with different costume parts and lifted it. He gave one last, nervous glance at Cartman before lunging forward. A few feet from Wendy, he pretended to trip right as she began the walk to the stage, sending the box directly in her path for her to trip over and fall. And she did. _Hard._

She let out a cry of pain as she quickly sat up, and grabbed her ankle.

"Wendy, are you okay?" Stan didn't hesitate to fall by her side.

"Oh no, did you trip on something?" Cartman asked with fake innocence as he dipped to her other side. "You should really watch yourself. You might pop one of those fake tits."

She glared at him hatefully, trying hard to keep back tears. "I hurt my ankle." She announced, sending the teacher into a fit of panic.

"This can not be!" She wailed. "Where _is _the understudy!"

"Bebe's the understudy." Kyle supplied.

"I don't want to be Juliet." Bebe retorted from somewhere among the crowd of sixth graders. "Juliet was stupid to kill herself over some prick, I'm not doing it."

"You must!" Miss Brown insisted.

"Fuck that." Bebe cursed. "I don't even know any of the lines."

Cartman waved his free hand wildly in the air before replacing it securely on Wendy's shoulder. "Miss Brown, if I may point out that Kyle here knows all the lines."

She perked up instantly, turning to face the aforementioned. "Mr. Broflovski, is this true? Do you know all of Juliet's lines?"

"W-well, I don't really think-"

"I've heard him myself, Miss Brown." Cartman cut in. "He's been helping Stan rehearse by role-playing Juliet. He's a natural."

"Mr. McKormick, grab a wig!" She demanded. "Mr. Brovfloski will save our show!"

Kenny hurried off in giggles to complete his task, leaving behind a stone still Kyle.

"Miss. Brown, I don't think I can do it. Besides, I already have a part. I'm Mercutio, remember?"

"Nonsense." She remarked, yanking a dress over his head so quickly he didn't have the chance to back away. "Mercutio is now dead. Therefore, you are no longer him."

"I don't want Kyle to be Juliet either." Stan opinionated frantically. "Please don't make him."

"W-well, I know all the lines, Miss Brown." Butters spoked up shyly. "I could do it."

"I want Kyle to be Juliet, Miss Brown." Stan quickly contradicted himself.

"Excellent." She proclaimed. "Now, hurry it up while I stall the audience."

"What? No!" Kyle refused. "I'm not going to do this, Dude! This is bull shit!"

"Please, Kyle," Stan begged, rising from the ground and stepping closer. "Please, just do this one thing for me and I'll never ask you for anything again."

"You're really going to make me get on stage in front of a hundred people, kiss you and prove the fat ass right?" He pointed down at Cartman, who in turn flipped him off before going back to coddling Wendy.

"You're really going to make me get on stage in front of a hundred people and let the self-proclaimed rainbow child kiss me?"

Kyle looked over at Butters, who was staring wistfully down at his shoes. "Ah, come on, Stan. It wouldn't be that bad."

Stan glared. "Right, that's easy for you to say. You're not the one who has to do it!" His voice softened slightly. "Is proving Cartman wrong really more important to you than friendship?"

Kyle considered it a moment, finally sighing at Stan's pleading look. "God damnit." He cursed softly. "Fine, lets get this over with." He yanked the dark, long wig from Kenny and slapped it onto his head. "I don't know why I do some of the things I do for you."

"Because you love me." Stan called as he followed him up the stage steps.

Cartman quickly scooped up Wendy, who insisted she hadn't twisted her ankle badly enough to miss the final scene, and disappeared into the front of the audience, camera in tact and the rest of the students in tow.

There were only two who didn't make a move. Butters, who was beginning to tear at Stan's blunt refusal of him, and Kenny, who had noticed his obvious distress. He walked carefully over to the other blonde and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"What's wrong?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

"Nuthin'." Butters answered, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his shirt.

Kenny fought a smile. He had never realized how Butters weak, redneck accent tended to get just a little stronger when he was upset. "No, really. What's wrong?" He repeated.

Butters sniffed loudly, breaking his stare on the floor to look at the boy next to him. "Stan hates me. It doesn't matter what I say or do, he doesn't want to be near me."

Kenny nodded in understanding. "Stan's just confused right now. I know he's being a dickhead, just like we all are sometimes, but he has a good heart."

"Ah, I know that." Butters agreed. "That's why I like him so much. I just don't know what to do about it."

"Don't cry." Kenny pleaded the moment he saw tears recollecting. "You know what you should do? You should back off for a while. Just leave him alone. Eventually he's going to notice and apologize."

"You r-really think so?" Hopefulness was a faint note mixed within the hurt, but it was there.

Kenny gave Butters' shoulder a comforting pat. "I promise."

"Do you know if… are him and Kyle-"

"He's confused right now." Kenny repeated. "Don't fret, dude. They're only friends."

Butters smiled uneasily, still not fully convinced. "Lets watch the rest of the play. It might make you feel better to know instead of wondering what that kiss was like."

He agreed reluctantly, but allowed himself to be led to the side of the stage to watch with Kenny's arm around him snugly.

On stage, Stan wanted to puke. He could feel the familiar sensation consume his esophagus as it grew closer and closer to the ending of the play. He was only thankful he was suppose to be dead, even though his heart was beating so fast he was sure everyone could see and hear it. On the other hand, it wasn't exactly easy keeping still with Kyle lying next to him, pretending to wake up, rant about his undying love in poetic words no one understood and then finally…

His eyes almost flew open when he realized the last line before the kiss had just been spoken. Kyle's hand against his cheek soothed him slightly, allowing him enough comfort to keep from quaking to death as he felt cool breath against his skin, and finally the light pressure of warm lips. His stomach lurched at first, but nothing emerged, and then he melted completely beneath the touch. It was only a few fleeting seconds, but the impact was enough to ensure keeping his eyes closed through the make-believe suicide wasn't a problem.

He was nudged lightly when the crowd exploded in cheers and the curtain closed. "Time to rise from the dead." Kyle joked.

He rose mechanically, stepping forward and linking his fingers with Kyle's on one side and someone he would never remember on the other side to give the final bow.

"Hey, Stan?" Kyle whispered. "Were you really going to go into the closet with Kenny?"

"No. Why?"

There was a pause when the curtain opened until it closed the final time. "No reason." He answered. "Now lets go fight our way through the adoring fans and go get some food. I know you're starving." He flashed a genuine smile and exited to the left.

Stan followed closely behind, but paused briefly. His eyes slipped shut involuntarily when he licked his lips.

They tasted like Kyle.

* * *

_-BratChild3 (Formerly BC2)_


	7. Kodak Moment

**Chapter 7: Kodak Moment.**

There's a feeling you get when you _know _something's going to happen that you don't _want _to happen. You can sense it in the air somehow. The same way you develop that sort of sense about things is exactly what happens when you've been friends with Eric Cartman most of your life. You just _know _when he's about to do something to really piss you off. You _know _when you should avoid him. You know because you get Cartman radar.

Stan's was working overtime. He had been right when his gut told him it was going to be a "Cartman's going to fuck with you day". The feeling had struck him somewhere between his routine morning shower and the bowl of oatmeal he never ate. His best friend knew, too. The moment he approached the bus stop, Kyle had greeted him with, "I've got a bad feeling about school today, dude. Cartman was cool about the play all weekend. You know he's up to _something." _

That _something _actually hadn't been quite as bad as they expected, coming from someone like Cartman. The root of all evil for the day; Pictures.

Stan had always heard about people being embarrassed by photographs, but never appreciated the old saying that pictures were worth a thousand words. Cartman knew, unfortunately. He was quite the photographer. So much so that he was able to embarrass him and Kyle with snapshots of something that had happened in front of a hundred people.

There was always someone to blame, and Stan blamed Shakespeare.

The school day was almost over, but he couldn't breathe yet. It was lunch period, and Cartman was no where to be seen. That meant he was most likely off somewhere entertaining another audience with his pictures. The worst part about it was his amazing ability to make people question the innocence behind what was happening in the images.

Stan closed his eyes, trying to stay calm, focused. He let out a slow breath and carefully pried his eyelids open to take in the surrounding cafeteria. No one was ripping on them. Ironically, it made him even more paranoid. He watched everyone carefully, wondering if they were being talked about.

He swallowed dryly and looked across the table at Kenny. Careless, innocent, perverted Kenny, sitting there, eating his cafeteria goop without a second thought. He looked up, his lively eyes squinting into the shape of orange slices, a dead give away he was flashing a cheery smile, before drawing his attention back to his tray of food.

Stan's train of vision shifted to Kyle, who was sitting next to him, chin in palm, glaring down at his food and stabbing it angrily as if he could see Cartman's face in it. With an unintentional sigh, Stan looked away.

Kyle looked up at him, his anger suddenly gone. "Don't worry, dude. Nothing _that _bad has happened."

"Nothing but the fat ass showing everyone pictures of us kissing." He murmured it so quietly it could barely be heard over the commotion around them.

"I think it's hot."

"No one cares what you think, Kenny!" Stan hissed.

"Fuck you." He replied, casually slipping his offender the finger.

"No one believes the things he's saying," Kyle decided. "The only thing he's doing is proving to everyone what an asshole he is."

"This coming from someone who cussed himself into a one way ticket to detention." Stan opinionated.

Kyle waved it off. "Just because he's full of crap doesn't mean he doesn't piss me off. I couldn't just sit there and take it like you."

"I told him to cut the crap." Stan defended himself.

"Yeah, that's _really _going to stop him, Stan." Kyle voiced with coated sarcasm.

"And we all know that yelling out in the middle of class helps." Stan shot back.

"He was calling you a-"

"I _know _what he was calling me." Stan reminded him, his voice rising with his fury. "Who died and made you my goddamn protector anyway? I didn't ask you to jump in and save me, so quit acting like your mom and doing it anyway!"

Kyle's eyes reflected hurt as he pursed his lips and looked away.

"Man, that was harsh." Kenny supplied, even as Stan's anger faded away to regret.

"Aw, I'm sorry, Kyle." He placed a hand on his friends shoulder with a sigh. "Ever since Cartman started making those predictions, I-" His sentence broke off when Kyle decided to look at him. Stan paused, completely forgetting to breathe, not to mention what he had just been saying.

"You, what?" Kyle asked simply, sounding somewhere between demanding and curious.

"I-I just… weird…" He choked out in clipped words, mesmerized by the green of Kyle's eyes. Had they always been that prismatic? "I mean," He suddenly added, realizing his current situation. "It's just weird how everything Cartman predicts actually happens. And now with the stunt he's pulling today, I've been like a time bomb. I didn't mean to explode on you like that."

Kenny chuckled to himself, obviously amused in a way neither of the two really wanted to know about. They had learned long ago to not asked when he laughed to himself. It was usually something sick.

"It's okay," Kyle assured with a soft smile. "We just can't let him get to us. That's what he wants. And I'll be damned if I let him get what he wants."

"Oh, hi, you guys." Cartman's unmistakable voice rung out, heavy with pleasantness.

"What the hell are you doing here, you fat bastard?" Kyle immediately exploded.

"I guess Kyle's damned." Kenny mused.

"Shut up, Kenny!" He threatened before quickly directing his seething gaze back to Cartman. "We don't want you here, so piss off!"

"I'm sorry, Kyle, I didn't know you were still on your period." He cooed as he slid beside Kenny. "I would have brought some chocolate. I know how you girls get cravings during your special time of the month."

A low growl emitted from Kyle's bared teeth as he fought with every ounce of restraint to keep from attacking the smug idiot like a rabid wolf. He didn't even notice he had shot up from the bench until he felt Stan's warm hand wrap around his forearm and pull him back down. "Just let it go." He spoke quietly.

Kyle felt a tinge of loss when Stan removed his hand. He wanted to hurt Cartman even more for that.

"So," Cartman spoke up again, still smiling and he tapped his stack of photos against the table to even them out. "Who wants to see the pictures I got developed last night?"

Kenny's hand immediately shot up. "I do, I do!"

His smile brightened. "Okay, Kenny."

"Cartman, will you back off already?" The annoyance was high in Kyle's voice, as usually was the case when he was talking to Cartman.

"What? All I'm doing is showing Kenny my pictures."

"Yeah," Kenny agreed, scooting closer to Cartman to get a better look.

"That's bull crap and you know it! He's seen them five times already!"

The accused duo ignored the fire being shot at them. "The first one's aren't much,"

Cartman was explaining, shuffling at a leisurely pace through his stack. "It starts getting good right about… about here." He allowed a long pause on that particular picture before moving on to the next one. "Kinda looks like there's a little tongue action going on in this one…"

"Uh huh." Kenny agreed with incredible interest.

"Jesus Christ." Stan huffed, leaning his cheek against his palm. "I can't figure out if he's trying to humiliate us, or proving to everyone his prediction was right."

"Actually, both." Cartman cut in, allowing Kenny to pull the picture out of his hand. "I would use these to blackmail you, only the entire event happened in front of the whole town. I also must say, I was a little disappointed in the lack of passion."

"Shut up, Cartman." Stan demanded.

Cartman frowned in mocked insult. "I was nice enough to take pictures of a very beautiful moment in your lives, and you don't even want to see them?"

"No, we don't want to see them." Kyle snapped.

"Yeah, now quit asking, fat boy!"

"You break my heart, you guys. You really do."

Kenny's eyes were focused intently on the picture he held even as he spoke. "Can I take this in the bathroom with me for a while?"

"No, Kenny, I haven't shown them to everyone yet." Cartman informed. He tried to pull the pictures away, but Kenny had other idea's. "No, _Kenny_, you gotta give me the pictures so I can show them to every_one_…" He whined loudly

"Give them back, Kenny," Stan insisted. "I really don't want you jerking off to a picture of me."

"Too late." He admitted as he yanked at the picture, pausing briefly to chuckle at Stan's clear mortification.

Cartman released the picture so suddenly that Kenny flew backward and landed on the ground with an "Oomph!"

"Wendy." Cartman stated simply, eyes glazed.

"Wendy?" Stan repeated.

Kyle opened his mouth to ask what about her when he spotted the blue eyed girl stand from the table she sat at, all the way across the cafeteria, behind Cartman, and begin walking toward them. "No fucking way."

"How did you do that?" Stan asked, mouth opened in astonishment as his eyes followed her.

"Do what?" Cartman asked stupidly, blinking away his locked stare.

"Hi, guys." Wendy greeted, causing Cartman to whirl around to face her. She looked down and frowned curiously at Kenny, who remained on the floor happily studying the photo, before looking back at the three remaining at the table.

"Wanna see my pictures, Wendy?" Cartman asked, sounding much too polite for his own good.

She smiled uneasily, ever wary and frustrated with him, before carefully declining. "You've already shown them to me."

It was all too noticeable the way his confidence level seemed to slip. "But it's better the second time you see them. Right, Kenny?"

"Uh _huh._" Rose the reply from the floor.

Cartman held the pictures up at her, like a child showing his mommy a picture he just colored. She shook her hand at it, "That's okay, really." She walked around the table to Stan and Kyle. "Stan, I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry I couldn't make it through the entire play. And, Kyle, I wanted to thank you for filling in for me. You both did a great job, everybody thinks so."

"Everyone thinks we're a big joke." Stan correctly dully, miserably.

"No, they don't," A pause. "Okay, maybe a few people. But mostly everyone thinks Kyle's kind of a hero for saving the show." She explained.

"Really?" He asked, hopefulness filling his voice.

"Yeah," She confirmed in a bubbly voice. "I have to get back, I just wanted to let you know." She slipped her arms around Kyle's shoulders and kissed his cheek, repeating the gesture on Stan. "I'll see you guys later."

Cartman's eyes followed her as she walked by before snapping back to the two across from him. "What the hell makes you fags so goddamn special?"

"We're not assholes." Stan answered.

"And what, I am?" He asked, almost sarcastically. His anger increased when no one answered. "Well, screw you guys!"

"Hey, screw _you,_ you piece of shit!" Kyle combusted again.

Stan let out an aggravated grunt, stood angrily and grabbed the carton of milk he wasn't going to drink anyway.

"Where the hell are you going?" Cartman asked as he watched him swing his legs over the bench.

"As far away from you as I can get." He answered as he stopped beside Kenny, resisting the urge to kick him, _hard. _"Give me the goddamn picture, Kenny." His voice was stern and steady.

"Nuh uh."

"You're not going to get it back, Stan, he bites." Kyle warned.

"Yeah," Cartman actually agreed for once. "Do you know how many trashy magazines I've lost because he got his grubby little mitts on them?"

"Kenny," Stan called again, sounding breathy this time. "If you give me the picture back," He continued, stepping one leg over to cushion Kenny's hips between his shoes. "I'll make it worth your while."

That had his attention. He lowered the prize he cradled slightly as he looked up, clearly intoxicated by the sight of Stan hovering over him. "Really?"

With lightening speed, he leaned forward and snatched the photo away. "Yeah. Now I wont kick you in the nuts."

"Damnit!" Kenny shouted, scrambling to his feet. "You're a fucking tease, Stan!"

"_Not as much as Kyle is."_ His heart stalled, hoping he hadn't said that aloud. "I'm sitting somewhere else." He announced.

"Hey, aren't you gonna give me my picture back?" Cartman snapped.

Stan scoffed. "Fuck you, asshole." And he began to walk away.

Cartman could feel his blood begin to boil, making him quake on the outside. Suddenly, he relaxed. "So I keep forgetting to ask if its happening yet." He called out.

Stan tried his damnedest not to care, but curiosity got the best of him. "If _what's _happening?" He asked as his footsteps died, deciding to maintain some dignity and not turn around.

"Boners."

The word was used so often, none of the other students seemed to even take notice that it had just been shouted.

"_What?" _He asked against his better judgment, and finally turned around.

Happy to have his attention and the opportunity to screw with his head some more, Cartman continued. "It came to me in a vision,"

"They come to me in visions, too."

"Goddamnit, Kenny." Kyle cursed with exasperation.

"The driving point that's going draw you away from Kyle." Cartman continued on in the way that only he could after Kenny had just said something consciously nauseating. "Now that you and Kyle made-out, you're starting to become more _aware _of him, aren't you?"

"_God, _Cartman!"

He held up his hand, palm outward at Kyle, his eyes still on Stan. "This is between me and Stan."

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about." Stan confirmed, trying to assure himself that Kyle's eyes distracting him earlier didn't qualify.

"Oh, I think you do." Cartman assured. "And it's not going to stop here. I'm not certain of what, but something about Kyle, something you've never paid attention to before, is going to make you so hard you wont even be able to sit through class with him unless you have a book over your lap to hide the evidence."

Without missing a beat, Stan chucked his milk at Cartman, successfully cracking it open over his head.

"Ah, son of a _bitch!" _He wailed.

But Stan was already gone, maneuvering through his peers and out the door. He waited until it closed to give it a nice swift kick before slamming himself against the wall. He heaved an angry breath and smacked the back of his head against the building once. The picture he had snatched dangled from his limp fingers, a painful reminder of _everything. _

A mere three feet away, Butters sat with his back against the wall, eyes wide in astonishment. He had been sitting by himself, in the quiet, when Stan had literally come crashing through the door. He wasn't sure whether to speak up, walk away, or pretend to be invisible. But of course, his mouth worked before his brain ever did. "Hi there, S-Stan."

His eyes were squeezed closed, his free hand pressed against them. "Shut-up, Butters."

"Oh, okay then." He tapped his fingertips together, trying hard to look away and losing the battle. Stan was upset, he decided, wanting to do something to help. But he couldn't say anything. He didn't want to risk the chance of scaring him away again. Plucking at a loose thread, he selfishly absorbed the presence beside him, fully appreciating everything from the red poof-ball hat to the tips of his black shoes. It didn't take long for the silence become too much. "Did you wanna talk about-"

"Cartman took pictures of the play." Stan blurted immediately, not even giving the blonde the chance to finish his offer of a listening ear. He peered down at the one he held before continuing. "He's an asshole, Butters. I can't even look at Kyle anymore without thinking about all the shit he's said."

Butters remained silent, wanting to help but not knowing how. It didn't make a difference, however, as Stan didn't hesitate to sink down the wall to the ground and continue to ramble.

"It's weird, you know? How all it takes is for someone to say something once, and you think about it all the time. I've never thought of Kyle as anything but my best friend."

"You haven't?" The hopeful question bubbled out of Butters throat before he could contain it.

Stan shook his head, not the least put off by the surprise in his companions voice. He knew Butters would never say anything to intentionally hurt anyone. "No, never. Even when we used to joke around about it. Now that Cartman's saying all this crap about us, how can I _not _think about it? It's making me feel like it's wrong to be around my own best friend. And I think he feels the same way." He paused to think, hands turned palm-upward in a questioning gesture. "We didn't talk to each other all weekend. That's not normal. We're always together. _Always. _And today… it's like there's this strain between us." He let his hands, animated with talk, fall back onto his raised knees. "I don't know what to do."

_You should back off for a while. Just leave him alone._

Kenny's advice about Stan himself swirled through Butters head. He hesitated before speaking up. "W-well, maybe you should just back off."

Stan looked over at him for the first time. "What?"

That was wrong, wasn't it? Butters was sure he had blown it again. Regardless, he cleared his throat nervously and spoke again. "You know. Just leave him alone for ah, a while. 'Til things die down a little." The blue gaze continued to pierce him, something he could really get used to.

"You think that will work?" He asked, finally.

Butters smiled at the irony. Stan didn't even realize it had worked on him. "Course it will."

Stan looked back down at the picture he still held. "I don't know." He said carefully. "I don't want to leave him alone."

Butters cautiously scooted closer and peered over at the picture. "Whoa! Where the heck you get that from?"

"Cartman." The name was sneered.

They both studied it a moment. "I watched the whole play, a-and I don't remember the kiss bein' so-"

"He takes good pictures." Stan cut him off. "He just… got it at a really good angle."

Simultaneously, they turned their heads sideways, analyzing it further.

"I don't think it's the angle, Stan." Butters decided.

They jumped, skin and clothes coming in contact with one another, at the sound of the door flying open. Kyle emerged, followed shortly by Kenny.

"There you are." Kyle declared when his eyes landed on Stan. "Come on, dude, we're ditching."

"Ditching?" Stan repeated, heart still pounding at the sudden intrusion.

"Yeah, you know," Kyle explained. "That's where we split instead of going to class. Come on." He motioned his hand in a _lets go _fashion.

"We can't just ditch." Stan argued. Why the hell was his stomach tingling?

"Yeah, we can." Kyle assured. His determination withered at Stan's reluctant stare. "Please? Come on, Stan. I couldn't see you for weeks because you were sick, and now because of fat fuck we're like total strangers." His voice was soft, eyes sad. "We're always the ones doing the right thing. Just once, lets say fuck it and go hang out. Just you and me."

Stan returned the smile he received. "What about your mom? She'll find out."

"Kenny took care of that." Kyle announced proudly. "He told Miss Brown you weren't feeling well again, and I had to see you home. She's not going to be calling anyone's mom."

He offered his hand as a help up, which Stan took. As soon as he was on his feet, Kyle wrapped his arm around his shoulder and began to lead him away.

"Thanks, Kenny." Stan beamed.

"It was nothing." He shrugged it off.

Stan halted, feeling around his pockets quickly and suddenly ducking and darting out of Kyle's half-embrace. "Crap! What happened to-"

"I have it." Butters stood, and pulled the picture out. "I hid it when the door opened. I know how you don't wah-want no one to see it."

There it was again. That breathtaking gaze Butters felt like he was drowning in.

"Thanks." Stan accepted it slowly. "Look, I'm sorry about… everything I-"

"Gee, that's alright, Stan." Butters promised.

Stan relaxed noticeably and slipped the picture into his jacket. "I'll see you around." He cast one last, perfect smile before walking away with Kyle.

Butters watched him go, a mixture of hopefulness and jealousy raining all around him. He hadn't even remembered Kenny until a hand fell on his shoulder.

"You alright?"

"Oh, I-I'm swell." He smiled, but it faded quickly. "Why'd you come out here if they only wanna hang out with each other?"

"I knew you were out here." Kenny admitted. "I wanted to make sure you'd be okay when Stan left."

Confusion crept onto Butter's face. "H-how'd you know I was out here? Are you stalking me or sumthin'?"

"Or _something_." Kenny answered humorously. He held the door open and motioned inward, gentleman style. "After you." He cocked his head to the left, sizing up Butters ass as he entered the cafeteria.

* * *

_-BratChild3_


	8. The Voice Of Kyle

**Authors Note: **Thanks guys. :) I really do appreciate the reviews, especially from those of you who already read and reviewed this the first time around.

* * *

**Chapter 8- The Voice Of Kyle.******

"_Stan?"_

"_Hmm?"_

_The figure next to him leaned closer and whispered directly in his ear. "Stan?" His breath smelled like the candy coated chocolates he had been eating._

"_What?" His eyes were drawn to the giant movie theater screen in front of them as he sipped continuously on the straw of his drink._

_Kyle placed his hand on Stan's shoulder, apparently about to make another comment on the movie, as he had about a million times already. "The way you're sucking on that straw is making me hot."_

_The liquid in his cup decided to run out at that moment, making a loud slurp sound as the last of the bubbles were sucked from the ice. Why was it that you couldn't even blink if something shocked you? He swallowed back apprehension. Maybe… he was joking. Right! Like they always did. Feeling silly, he turned his head to comment with a joke of his own, but the words died on his lips. Even in the darkness of the movie theater he could see lust burning in his friends eyes. His own eyes widened when he felt a hand cover his knee._

_Kyle leaned closer, letting his breath linger over Stan's neck.. "Really, _really _hot." His hand smoothed up Stan's leg and grasped his hand, drawing it against his chest. He pulled back to gauge the excitement flickering wildly in his friends expression before continuing. "You wanna feel how hot you're making me?" _

_Stan's breathing was so heavy at this point he felt like he was hyperventilating. His pants too, he noticed, had become uncomfortably tight in the fly. He needed to throw up, but he couldn't seem to pull his hand away from being slowly guided to the bulge in the front of Kyle's pants. In a way, he wanted to feel…_

… His eyes flew open with an overly dramatic intake of oxygen as he shot upright in bed.

"Shit... shit! Oh, _God!" _He practically yelped, shaking out his hand as if he had been burned. He could still feel the material of Kyle's pants, almost as if he had really touched them. He grabbed the wrist of his tingling hand and stared down at it, gasping for air.

"What the _hell _was that_?"_

He jerked at the sound of one loud knock on his bedroom door, and quickly hid his hands beneath the covers, as if they were evidence of what his dream had been.

"Stanley," His mom walked through the door, pissing him off to some degree. She may have knocked, but it wasn't like she gave him any time to respond before barging in. What if he had been naked? Sure, she had seen him that way before, but the package changed after a while, in case she forgot to notice. "Phone for you. Don't talk too long, dinner in five." She handed him the phone and walked out, actually closing the door behind her for once.

Stan let out the breath he was holding and glanced at his clock. 6:40 P.M. He had been sleeping for nearly four hours, ever since he come back home from ditching with Kyle.

_Kyle…_

He felt his stomach flip-flop. But something wasn't right. Something felt… _different. _He shifted uncomfortably beneath his sheets, lifted the edge and peaked down into his lap.

"_Crap!"_ He wailed again when his worst fears were confirmed. "What the fuck is going on?" He glance down at the phone resting in his hand, having forgot about it until then.

He cautiously raised it to his ear, listening intently at first. "Kyle?" He croaked out.

"Not on your life, you over sensitive pussy!" Cartman's gruff, angry voice was a shock compared to expecting Kyle's soft, pleasant one.

"What do you want, Cartman?" He could feel the large amount of blood accumulated in the lower half of his body begin to pump back into less embarrassing area's.

"Something told me to check up on you. I could feel it in my gut." He answered, sounding strangely accusing. "Why the hell are you out of breath? You have Wendy there, don't you? I knew it!"

"What the fuck is your prob-"

"God damnit, Stan!" He continued to roar. "You fucking woman stealing, hippie loving, asshole!"

"I don't have Wendy over here." He explained calmly.

"You are such a bad liar! You're panting like a dog!"

A blush stained his cheeks as a flash of the dream zapped his mind. "It has nothing to do with Wendy, trust me."

"It better not, or I'll come kick you in the nuts so hard they'll fly out your fucking mouth!" He threatened. "You got that? Right out your fucking mouth!"

Stan clicked the phone off, done listening to Cartman's freak out rant. He jumped a second time as the phone screamed out, but he answered immediately. "I told you, fat ass, I don't have Wendy here! Why don't you hunt her down instead of bitching to me about it?"

"Whoa, what the hell, dude?" Kyle's voice filtered through.

Stan pulled the phone away from his ear and looked down at it with a surprised frown before replacing it again. "I just hung up with the fat ass. He thinks I have Wendy over here."

"So, what if you did?" Kyle questioned. "It's not like he owns her. Or is there something we don't know yet?"

"Are you calling for a reason?"

It was Kyle's turn to glance at his phone, eyebrows knit in confusion. "Since when do I need a reason to call you?"

"You didn't." He shook his head quickly. "You don't, I mean. I was just… just wondering-"

"Are you okay, Stan?" Kyle cut him off. "Because you sound really funny."

Stan bit into his lower lip, stifling a moan. Something was very wrong here…

"Are you _panting?" _Kyle went on, to which Stan placed a hand over his mouth in vague attempt to quiet his ever increasing lung activity. " Dude, _do _you have someone over there you want to tell me about?"

He exhaled quietly, squeezed his eyes closed and covered them with his hand. "No, no one's here. I'm fine, just a little… little trouble breathing."

_Lie._

"You're not getting sick again, are you?"

He held back a mirthless laugh. "_Not quite." _He thought, glancing again at the status of his lap, accomplishing nothing but increasing anxiety. "I have to go."

"Sure, but actually I _was_ calling for a reason. When I got back to school for detention, the teacher let me go. Something about points for courtesy. I think she meant when I "took you home" because you got sick again. Can you believe that? Miss Brown wrote off my detention for _ditching. _Maybe we should try that more often." He was greeted by silence. "Stan?"

"Yeah." His answer sounded suspiciously like a moan.

"I'm coming over."

"No!" He pressed his head back into his pillow, inhaling and exhaling quickly to catch his breath. "I'm fine. I'll be fine."

"Are you mad at me for something?" Uneasiness rung his voice like a bell. "Did your parents find out we ditched, is that it?"

Stan shook his head. "No, I'm not mad at you, Kyle."

"What's wrong?"

The worry in his voice sliced at Stan like a knife. He never anticipated the day there would be something he didn't want to talk to Kyle about. He never anticipated the day he wouldn't want to talk to Kyle _period. _But the day had come, and that broke his heart.

_If I suddenly get the urge to rip off your pants and suck you dry, I'll let you know…_

"Kyle?" He started hesitantly. "Would you really let me know if… if you…"

"If I what?"

"Would you want me to say anything if… what if I thought… say I had this dream- Goddamnit! Forget it."

"Okay, now I'm _really _worried about you. You don't sound like yourself at all."

Stan let out an exasperated sigh. Why did it seem like the more Kyle talked the harder it was to keep from withering beneath the sheets and moaning insanely? It was almost as if…

His eyes widened when realization crashed all around him.

…_Something you've never paid attention to before is going to make you so hard you wont even be able to sit through class with him unless you have a book over your lap to hide the evidence._

Something he never paid attention to before. Something like… Kyle's voice.

Oh, _fuck._

"Stan…?"

He could feel his excitement increase with a jerk.

"Stan…?"

God, damn Cartman and his accurate predictions! Damn him straight to hell!

He bit down on his blanket and moaned deeply, listening as Kyle repeated his name. "I… have to… go." He announced breathily.

"Okay, dude." Kyle agreed reluctantly. "See you tomorrow."

Stan clicked the phone off without another word and tossed it to the side, peering under the covers one last time.

He needed to change his sheets.

----------------------------------------------

"When's it going to stop?"

"_Aye! _Get your goddamn hands off me!"

"Tell me, you fucking bastard!"

"Tell you _what?"_

"You know _what!" _Stan screamed, pulling Cartman closer by the grip he had on the collar of his shirt. "You did this, and now you're going to make it stop!"

Cartman choked for breath, tugging at Stan's powerful grip. "This is a new shirt, you son of a bitch! Let go!"

"Tell me!"

"Woo hoo! Rip his clothes off!" Kenny cheered as him and Kyle joined their friends at the bus stop.

"No, leave it on. For all our sakes." Kyle corrected.

"Fuck you!" Cartman cursed. "Call off your crazy ass boyfriend, you fucking Jew!"

"Kick his ass, Stan." Kyle commanded with a smile.

"Yeah, lets see some action!" Kenny agreed.

Instead, Stan opted to shove his prey onto the ground and cross his arms with a pout.

"Asshole." Cartman hissed as he stood and brushed the snow off the seat of his pants.

"What the hell was that all about, dude?" Kyle asked Stan. "Not that I'm not proud of you. Actually I think you should have kicked his ass while you had the chance." He took in his friends profile, noting the way he closed his eyes and choked back a faint moan. "Does your stomach hurt?"

Stan shook his head. Take it down about twelve inches, and there one would find the source of his problem. He could feel the pulses of electrifying arousal begin to consume him again. This wasn't good. Not good at all.

"Stan?"

He threw Kyle's hand off his shoulder, almost violently. "I told you, I'm fine." He glanced bitterly at Cartman. "Just give me some room to breath. _Jesus._"

Kyle watched Stan stomp up the steps of the bus and disappear inside.

"I'd stay out of his way, man." Cartman advised. "I think he might have rabies or something."

"I'll find out what's wrong." Kenny offered, shoving Cartman off the bus steps and pulling himself on.

"Ah! Kenny, you pushy bastard!" He screeched.

Kenny chuckled at the insult, but continued on his way, settling himself not so graciously in Kyle's usual spot next to Stan. "Hey, honey baby."

"Leave me alone, Kenny." He grumbled, not even bothering to shift his gaze from the window.

"It hurts me when you say that." Kenny stated with mocked offense. But he wasn't doing a very good job with his acting. His eyes were drawn to Stan's pants the entire time.

"Let me sit down, Cartman." Kyle's voice broke the atmosphere.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Cartman apologized, scooting over slightly. Before Kyle could sit, his hand shot out. "Oh, wait. Jews aren't allowed to sit near the front of the bus. You might contaminate our mountain fresh air with your Kosher breath."

Before he could respond, the bus came to an abrupt stop, sending him flying backward to land directly on Kenny's lap.

Kenny's eyebrows arched suggestively. "Does this mean you'll come into the janitors closet with me?"

Kyle's nose wrinkled in disgust as he slipped onto the seat next to Stan, knocking Kenny into the isle along the way.

"Fine. That's your loss." He promised, and sat next to Cartman, who promptly shoved him off.

"This seats taken, you poor piece of white trash!"

"By who?" He asked angrily.

"By Cartman's two asses." Kyle spoke up.

"I don't have two asses!"

"Your one qualifies as two."

"You really have a thing for my ass, don't you Kyle?" He roared, completely enraged. "Well, I'll tell you what. If you like it so damn much you can come over here and give it a nice, wet kiss!"

"I'd pay to see that." Kenny offered.

"Shut the hell up, here she comes." Cartman insisted, his anger immediately evaporating when Wendy got on. "Hi, Wendy. I saved a seat for you." He scooted closer to the window to emphasis his point.

She glanced down at the seat, then at Cartman. "Actually, I was going to-" She broke off her sentence and took in his innocent, round eyes and genuinely friendly smile. "Well," She started unsurely, giving the empty seat behind Stan and Kyle one last glance. "Thanks, that was nice of you." She mentally scolded herself as she sat down. What the hell was she thinking?

"Um…Wendy?" He asked in that I've-got-a-question-you-might-not-like voice. "Did you just happen to be at Stan's house last night?"

"No." She answered carefully. "What would make you think that?"

"Oh, I don't know." He fibbed, nervously picking at his fingers. "If Stan asked you out again, would you say yes?"

Kyle shook his head, hoping to God they wouldn't say anything to upset Stan more than he already was. He thought maybe that's what his problem was, something about Wendy, but when he looked at his friend, he wasn't even paying attention to what the two in front of them were saying. He seemed to be in a daze, or some kind of trance.

_You want to feel how hot you're making me?_

Stan shivered violently as the dream replayed itself over in his mind. Kyle sitting so close wasn't exactly helping things any. He held onto his own hand, afraid that if he didn't it would wander toward Kyle's lap without permission. At least he wasn't talking. That was the big thing here. He couldn't here his _voice._

"Stan?"

He whipped his head around, bumping noses with Kyle. It had been whispered directly into his ear. Just like his dream.

Kyle stared him down incredulously. "Chill out. I just wanted to know if-"

"No!"

"Dude, I haven't even asked anything yet."

"I don't want to feel, Kyle!"

"Feel _what?"_

Stan fought to keep his eyes from trailing down to Kyle's lap, and was thankful he was able to do so.

"Okay , Stan, this has been bothering me since last night. Now what the hell is your problem?"

His breathing was ragged again, a side effect of Kyle's "talking" problem. It seemed like he did it all the time. Or maybe it was only because he noticed it now. Among other things. Those eyes. Those goddamn green eyes. "I'm going to kill Cartman." He blurted.

"Me too." Kyle agreed. "Are you pissed at him because he's putting the moves on Wendy?"

He blinked, shook his head. "Wendy?"

"Jesus Christ, here we go again." Kyle whined. "Kenny, you're pretty smart about psychological crap like this. You fix him."

"I'll fix him real good." He assured, taking the spot next to Stan again. "What's up?" He asked, actual concern tingeing the question.

"I really _don't _want to talk about it."

"Dude, you've got to talk to someone." Kyle insisted.

"God, Kyle." Stan breathed. "Could you just stop talking?"

"It _is _me, isn't it?" He asked. "The least you can do is tell me what the hell I did!"

Angry in his own right, Stan shoved Kenny to the floor and stood.

"Ow! Now that is it!" Kenny wailed. "I have had enough of this bullshit!"

"Where are you going?" Kyle shouted at Stan, who was heading toward the back of the bus.

"I'm sitting with Butters." He answered in calm anger, turning to face Kyle before sitting. "I just need time away from you for a while, okay?"

"Well, that's just fine, Stan!" Kyle replied. "Sit with Butters! Make-out with him for all I care!"

Stan huffed and slid onto the seat next to Butters. He knew Kyle would take it personally. Hell, _he _would take it personally if Kyle was brushing _him_ off.

"I-is everythin' alright?" Butters asked nervously.

"Yeah." Bitterness laced Stan's voice. "I was thinking about what you said, about backing off for a while. I think that's probably a good idea right now. Want to hang out with me today?"

"Boy, do I!" He exclaimed, catching himself before he threw his arms around the startled, blue-eyed boy. "I m-mean, sure I do."

He had to fight himself to keep from giggling like a girl the whole way. Stan was sitting with _him, _by choice! It could only get better from here.

* * *

_-BratChild3 (Lisha)_


	9. Poisoned Icing

**Authors Note: **This is one of my favorite chapters for some reason. I had fun writing this one. Once again, thanks for the reviews and I look forward to seeing more. :)

* * *

**Chapter 9- Poisoned Icing.**

What a load of _bullshit._

Of course today would be the day Miss Brown forced a select few to read aloud from their literature textbooks. Of course today would be the day she chose Kyle. Why wouldn't she? It was the poisoned icing to top off the already bitter cake of Stan's day. All that was missing was the sour cherry in the middle. If he had any doubts about it, they were whisked away the moment Mr. Mackey poked his head in the door and asked to talk to Miss Brown. Kyle, being the good student he was, had the privilege of continuing to read to the class until she got back. So now Kyle's "one paragraph" had quadrupled into reading the entire nine page Edgar Allan Poe poem.

Great. Grand. _Wonderful. _

If Stan didn't know any better, he would bet his life on the fact that Cartman had planned the entire thing somehow. The fat bastard had his devious ways of conforming things to fit his amusement. Strangely enough, he seemed to be in his own little world today, his eyes barely leaving Wendy long enough to blink. He had a plan that somehow revolved around her. That much was obvious by the glint in his eyes. He also seemed to be oblivious to Stan's little problem. Which either meant that he was too preoccupied to care, (Like that would happen) or he honestly hadn't planned this somehow.

So, Stan did the only thing he could do. He crossed his arms over his desktop, buried his face in the bend of his elbow, and listened to Kyle read from the goddamn literature book. And people thought Chinese ice torture was bad…

The irony? Kyle didn't have a clue what a tease he was. He carried on without a doubt, breezing through "The Black Cat" like his voice was just _ordinary. _Like it wasn't doing scary, yet amazing things to his best friend.

"…On the night of the day on which this cruel deed was done, I was aroused from sleep by the cry of fire…"

Christ. He would have to say "aroused".

_God, Kyle… stop talking…_

Stan never wanted to see Miss Brown so badly in his life. But, the sooner she came back, the sooner Kyle would shut the hell up, and the sooner he could take his book off his lap. For now he wouldn't remove it for the world. No way in hell he was about to let the entire class see exactly how extraordinary he thought Kyle's voice was. It heightened his senses, made his body hum, his breath deepen. It made him want to listen to Kyle talk forever… and that scared the living fuck out of him.

Damn Edgar Allan Poe and damn Shakespeare. Stan was really starting to have a thing against old fashioned poets. They brought trouble. Every single one of them.

He heard the pen scribbling, heard the paper rip, felt it smack against his shoe. Ordinary note passing. But why the hell was he making it a secret? Kyle was in charge, and he wouldn't tattle on them.

Stan lifted his arm and peeked down at the crumpled piece of paper before bending over to collect it, careful to keep his book securely over his lap. He unfolded the note and recognized Kenny's writing immediately;

"_You want him just as bad as I do."_

His heart skipped a beat. How did Kenny always know crap like that about people? It was like a sixth sense to him. He could smell any trace of sexual excitement. He knew if you had a dirty thought, no matter how slight it may be. Kenny was one with sexual desire.

Stan turned in his seat, flipped off his perverted friend and mouthed "Fuck you", to which Kenny immediately scribbled another note, this time handing it over without even trying to conceal it.

"_Your place or mine?"_

Stan glanced back up with a glare, to which Kenny smiled and waved, deciding to sweeten the deal by blowing a less-than-silent kiss.

How the hell did he do it? How was he so open and calm about wanting to screw everyone? And why didn't anyone give him hell about it? It was almost as if it were expected of him.

Stan gave a start when his eyes connected with the steady gaze of Cartman. They were squinted just slightly, a reaction from the smirk residing on his festively plump face. That look was _not _a look you wanted to receive from Cartman. _Ever. _It was that look that meant; _I know something you don't want me to know, and you're a dumb shit if you think I'm not going to give you hell about it._

Stan swallowed thickly and diverted his attention back to Kyle. At the moment, he wasn't too sure that was any better, especially when every few seconds those emerald eyes would glance right at him, hold just long enough to make his breath catch. He closed his eyes for a moment.

_Kyle…_

He reopened them when he felt another wad of paper hit his shoe. One look at Cartman was enough to ensure it was from him this time. Reluctantly, Stan retrieved it, and with shaky hands read the amazingly neat writing.

"_That's a pretty book decorating your lap. Is that a kick stand holding it up, or are you just happy to see Kyle?"_

At first, Stan wanted to die. He wanted to dig a hole right there and crawl into it. But, he realized something; Cartman was just fucking with him _because _he had a book sitting on his lap, not because he had actually seen anything. That was impossible. At this point he was so worried about someone finding out he had nothing to hide anymore. So, he lifted the book, carefully just to be sure, slapped it onto his desk, wadded the offensive note with more force than necessary and threw it at Cartman's head. Unfortunately, he dodged it like an expert, turning quickly to watch it smack Butters instead.

"Ow." Butters murmured, rubbing his forehead absentmindedly.

"God damnit, Butters, paper doesn't hurt." Cartman pointed out.

Seeing a golden opportunity to get some groping and touching in, Kenny slipped out of his desk to stand next to Butters'. "How do you know if it hurt?" He asked Cartman with fake anger as he pulled Butters head against his chest and pet his hair. "Did it hit _you _in the head?" Kenny asked.

"Yeah," Butters agreed, clinging to the boy holding him and allowing himself to be coddled. "Did it hit _you _in the head?"

Cartman scoffed. "It's common sense, you retard. Paper doesn't hurt. It's not hard enough. It would have to be a least as hard as Stan's boner." He pointed at the boy sinking lower and lower in his chair.

"It could have cut him, paper does have _edges." _Kenny rushed, purposely changing the subject as quickly as possible. "You need me to kiss it, make it better?" He asked Butters. Before he could respond, Kenny kissed his forehead with a resounding smack sound, hugged him tighter and ran his hands up and down his back slow and thoroughly.

"Jesus Christ." Cartman sneered in disgust. His eyes brightened when they caught Stan's again. "But Stan knows what he wants Kyle to kiss and make better, don't you Stan?"

"Oh, oh, _oh!" _Wendy suddenly exploded, smacking her hands on her desk after being uncharacteristically quiet all day. Everyone immediately hushed their whispered conversations and looked toward her, Kyle included, who had just now realized no one was listening to him read anymore.

"I am so _sick _of you picking on Stan!" Wendy continued to yell at Cartman, who actually looked hurt for once in his life. "That is the tenth time _today! _I know because I counted!" She wailed, getting right up in his face and pointing an angry finger at his nose "You are such an asshole all the time! Can't you see that something is bothering him today? He doesn't need to take any shit from you, so back off! Just once, shut your god damn mouth, you inconsiderate, vile little bastard!"

Silence followed, broken only by the sound of Wendy's heavy breathing.

"Well, miss Testaburger," Miss Brown announced from the doorway. "You've just won a slip for after school detention. Congratulations."

"Detention?" She breathed, disbelief written all over her face.

"Oh, that's tough shit, man." Cartman commented, to which she glared at him viciously and slowly backed away and into her chair.

Her gaze shifted to Stan, who gave her a soft, apologetic smile. Normally he wouldn't like the idea of a girl coming to his rescue, or anyone for that matter. But today was different. Today he felt vulnerable. Today, he wouldn't have been able to save himself from Cartman's more than true accusations. He was far too embarrassed. He gave a slight wave in way of saying "thanks".

Cartman watched with a death glare as Wendy smiled back. That was minus five points for him and bonus points for Stan. The thing that really pissed him off was that Stan didn't even know he was in the game. But, with him sucking up all Wendy's affection, he wasn't getting out of it.

It was _on._

* * *

"Damn. That was hot." Kenny remarked. "Wendy's hot when she's pissed, huh Stan?"

The addressed boy never answered. He never even heard the question, but that didn't stop Kenny.

"I wish she would have grabbed my shirt, hauled me against her and yelled at me like that." He went on, his hands making dramatic movements in the air. "I bet he could feel every inch of her. That's hot shit right there, dude."

Silence could be deafening, and Kenny was finding out first hand. Stan kept pace with him perfectly as they took their time walking toward the school cafeteria, but he never said a word. His eyes were cast downward, his hands tucked deep into his pockets. Kenny smiled. If ever there were a time to test his suspicions, it was now.

"Not as hot as Kyle, of course." Just as he thought, Stan's eyes snapped up immediately, holding a mix of shock and guilt. "Nice of miss Brown to put him up on display so we could look at him and fantasize while she was out. Think that'll count toward sex ed.?"

Stan choked for words, looking more paranoid by the moment. Kenny almost felt bad for putting him on the spot, even though he was barely able to hold back a laugh. "Christ, Stan, you're hot when your flustered. You'd better stop before I attack you right here and now."

Their footsteps died simultaneously a few feet in front of the cafeteria, almost like an unspoken agreement.

"Really, Stan," Kenny spoke seriously for the first time that day. "What I said in my note is true, isn't it?"

"N-no!" Stan denied too quickly. "It's not-"

"That's it." Kenny shook his head with a sigh. "I warned you." In a flash he had Stan pressed against the lockers, his arms pinned up over his head.

"What the hell are you doing!" He shouted, more frantic than pissed.

"An experiment," Kenny replied calmly. "Just close your eyes and pretend I'm Kyle."

"Not again, Kenny," Kyle voiced as he walked up. "Leave Stan alone."

Kenny, still pinning Stan to the lockers with his own body, opened his mouth to retort, but was stalled by Stan's sudden escape. "Damnit!" He cursed instead.

"What did Cartman do to piss Wendy off so bad this time ?" Kyle asked.

Kenny, ignoring his own sexual frustration, glanced quickly at the ever embarrassed, frightened Stan and came to the rescue by shrugging it off. "You know Cartman."

Kyle rolled his eyes in agreement. "He's still in the classroom trying to get detention. What a stupid ass."

Stan, who was half hiding behind Kenny, tried to pull his shirt down to cover any evidence that seemed to be coming back. Couldn't Kyle ever shut the hell up? Apparently not, because he kept on going. Stan could feel it happening again, his insides melting at the sound. He had to get out of there, _fast. _As if on cue, Butters shuffled through the cafeteria door and paused when he noticed the trio of friends. He twisted his fingers and smiled at Stan, who smiled back with an equal amount of nervousness and relief.

"What's going on?" Kenny asked when he noticed.

"I'm gonna… sit with Butters today." Stan answered.

"Oh, right. I forgot." Kyle snapped. "You need some time away from me." He mimicked spitefully.

"Dude, that's not cool." Kenny warned.

"No, _this _isn't cool!" Kyle spread his arms, indicating Stan and Butters.

Stan scoffed and started in the opposite direction of the cafeteria. "Come on, Butters, lets get out of here."

"You'll have to talk to me sooner or later, _Stan!" _Kyle shouted after them, watching until they disappeared around the corner to shout a string of colorful curses and stomp his foot like a five year old. "Son of a bitch!"

"You're being the bitch, Kyle."

"_Me?_" He asked incredulously. "He's the one that's been ignoring me all day! Didn't you notice that? Because I sure as hell did!"

"Shit, dude, it's not that big a deal." Kenny shrugged it off.

"Not that big a deal?" Kyle repeated. "You weren't ditched by your best friend three times today!"

"It wasn't that many."

"The hell it wasn't!" Kyle retorted. "He ditched me on the bus, he ditched me a second time when we had to pick science partners, and now he's doing it again! And every time has been for Butters!"

"Jealous?"

"Shouldn't I be?" He exclaimed. "Stan is _my _fucking friend! I don't even know what the hell I did! He's acting like I raped him or something!"

"Give him time. Just trust me on this." Kenny assured. "Have I ever lied to you?"

Kyle snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. "There was that time you told me we _had _to shower together in gym because there weren't any more open and we would be late to class."

"Okay, one time."

"Or that time you told me I had something on the back of my pants so you could rub my ass."

"Okay-"

"Or that time-"

"_Okay!_" Kenny yelled. "If you knew what was going on with him, you would understand. He's not mad and he doesn't hate you. You know how much he cares about you. You should know better than anyone that this is killing him more than it's hurting you."

His expression was blank, but his eyes were sad. "He told you and not me?"

"No, no," Kenny denied quickly. "I just know this shit. I'll talk to him about it, make sure I'm not wrong. For now, just… leave him alone."

"But, he's my best friend." He murmured softly, hands turned upward in a helpless gesture. "How did it come to this?"

His voice was so sad it broke Kenny's heart. He put his arm around Kyle and gave a brotherly squeeze. "It's okay, Kyle. It's not forever."

Kyle sighed and looked down, completely ignoring Cartman as he approached with a bounce in his step. "Ha ha ha ha _ha _ha! I got detention, and you guys _did-_n't!"

"We don't _want _detention." Kyle snapped, pissed beyond the limit.

"Aw, is your heart broken, Kyle?" Cartman asked sympathetically.

"Cartman," Kenny sighed. "Just don't." Even though he considered Cartman his best friend, he became annoyed with him easily. He just didn't know when to quit.

"I told you Stan was gonna ditch you, but did anyone believe me?"

"Cartman-"

"No." He answered himself, ignoring Kenny's pleas. "So, maybe next time you'll listen to what I'm saying."

"All you ever say is a bunch of crap that isn't true so you can fuck with our heads!" Kyle shrieked. "I bet whatever is going on with Stan has something to do with all the shit you're filling his head with! What the hell did you tell him, Cartman!"

"Your boyfriend?"

"He's not my boyfriend!"

"Well, not anymore…" He agreed.

"Not _ever!"_

Cartman pat his shoulder. "Never say never, Kyle. Sometimes dreams come true."

"This is a fucking waste of time!" Kyle burst out, turning on his heels to stomp away. Before he got too far, he paused and turned to give his own piece of mind. "I've got a prediction for you, hippo-ass. If you don't stop being such a goddamn bastard, Wendy is always going to think you're a lame-ass, jack-off and wish you would go to hell and die."

"Oh, that's such bull crap." Cartman insisted.

"Wendy hates liars!"

"I'm telling the truth, Goddamnit!" He pointed off in the distance. "Is Stan, or is Stan not off with Butters right now?"

"So what if he is?" Kyle spouted back.

"I just came out here, how would I know they're together?"

Silence filled the hall.

"For once in my life I'm telling the truth and you assholes don't believe me!" He raged. "I _know _things. You can kiss Stan's ass goodbye, Kyle, I'm telling you right now! You're just gonna have to wipe your snotty little nose and get the hell over it!"

"I'll never give up on Stan." He promised in a hushful whisper, and walked away without looking back. He didn't want to believe Cartman, but a small part of him already did.

* * *

_-BratChild3 (Lisha)_


	10. Under my Blanket

**Chapter 10- Under my Blanket.**

She was still as a statue, back straight, hands placed neatly on her desktop, and eyes frozen to the plain, round clock hanging above the chalkboard.

_Tick, tick, tick…_

It was driving her mad. But, she didn't dare look away, didn't dare move. If she did, she would snap again. She had never had detention before. She was a good student, an "A" student. She was student council. She was student of the month. She was on the honor roll.

And it had all been spoiled by one conscience impaired asshole.

She tried not to listen to him playing with the tiny figurines he had hidden in his desk. Tried not to look at him, even though she felt his eyes on her every five to seven seconds. Those warm brown eyes, same color as the chocolate chips in a fresh cookie. It was deceiving. Those eyes were better suited for someone with a caring heart, deep emotions and a lot of passion. Those eyes were better suited for someone like Stan.

At the moment, she couldn't remember what she ever liked about Eric Cartman. The sad, unbearable truth was that she _had_ liked him. Starting with a small infatuation in the fourth grade that soon posed as a threat to her relationship with Stan. The reality of it was, after she kissed Cartman to relieve "Sexual tension", as Bebe so thoughtfully worded it, her feelings for him hadn't gone away like she told him they had. In fact, they quadrupled. She was never very good at ignoring things she didn't like. She tried her damnedest to ignore her rapidly evolving emotions, but she was only kidding herself. Eventually, her attraction to Cartman became too unbearable, and she had no choice but to break it off with Stan. She used the excuse that he never spent enough time with her, and actually, he hadn't. But, the full truth was that she didn't want him anymore. She wanted Eric Cartman, and hell would freeze over before she would ever admit that out loud. And so, she had dated different boys, trying to satisfy her craving.

They all failed.

Now, as he made his tiny figurines argue and fight, she could almost slap herself for being so stupid. There was nothing good about the sack of worthless shit. He was cold and unfeeling, selfish and arrogant. Everything she despised. She felt nothing for him anymore. In fact, she had forgotten completely what it was she had ever seen in him.

If she told herself that long enough, eventually she would believe it, too.

"You know that a pigs orgasm lasts for thirty minutes?" He asked suddenly, still playing with his toys as he spoke, as if that were the most normal thing a person could possibly announce at random.

Wendy gawked at him, completely mortified. She swore she wouldn't speak to him, but really, how the hell do you just ignore something like that?

"That's disgusting!" She wailed.

"Oh, so you _do _still have your voice box." He observed. "I was beginning to think you damaged it with one too many deep throaters, you being the undefined ho you are."

"Where did you hear that garbage?"

He snorted. "Everyone knows you're a ho, Wendy. I mean, damn…"

"Not that!" She exclaimed. "About the pigs."

"Oh." He considered this, looking as if he were thinking back a long time ago. "One day, I was watching T.V, and I was hungry, so I asked my mom to make me something to eat. I said, "Muuuum, will you make me pancakes and powdered donuts?" And she told me no, Goddamnit, because I have to do everything around there."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Hold on, I'm getting to it." He snapped, making one plastic army man blast another into oblivion. "So, I got up and got the bag of cheesy poofs. My mom must have left the door unlocked again, because Kenny had wandered inside and was in my spot. I said, "No, _Kenny_, that's a bad Kenny!" And I smacked him with the remote, because he's an asshole. His head changed the channel, to national geographic, and they were talking about…different farm animals and things, and then Kenny told me that a pigs orgasm lasts for thirty minutes. Isn't that _cool_?"

She blinked at the conclusion of his rather pointless and strange story. "Why would he tell you something like that?"

These "creatures" known as "boys" fascinated her sometimes, they really did. They were just so stupid and random.

"I don't know, because he's a dirty little bastard." Cartman answered nonchalantly.

"If he's such a dirty little bastard, why are you friends with him?"

"It's not his fault," He declared. "You would be, too, if you lived off ramen noodles in the ghetto." He now had one toy figure pointed at her as he promised this. "And I don't hate Kenny, I hate Stan and Kyle."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "They haven't done anything to you."

"Yes they have," He argued, looking frustrated himself. "They piss me off all the time. Whenever I have an idea that's totally tits, they always give me a gay ass speech about morals and crap, and if I don't do what they say, they screw things up for me."

"They're only looking out for you. They're being good friends, something you know nothing about." She accused.

"Aye! Those assholes would be lost without me!"

She rolled her eyes exasperatedly, and leaned her cheek against her hand.

"You think I'm lying!" He shouted.

"You always lie!" She exploded right back, her hands springing up to emphasize her point. "I don't think one truthful thing has ever come out of that foul mouth of yours!"

"It's true when I tell Stan and Kyle I hate them!" He amended.

"It wasn't true when you were teasing Stan about his sexuality!"

"Oh, here we go again. Jesus _crap, _you are blind as hell. I only thought that happened if you masturbated too much, not if you're a ho that gives too many blowjobs!"

She growled in pure hatred, ready to kick his ass to kingdom come when miss Brown walked back in. "Okay, children, you're free, free as birds." She exclaimed on a sigh, waving her hand toward the door to shoo them out.

"Thank _god!"_ Wendy exclaimed, immediately grabbing her notebook and stomping out the door.

"Wendy!" He shouted after her before the door slammed shut.

She ignored it all the way down the hall, and only made it to the middle of the schoolyard before he actually caught up with her, huffing for breath as he grabbed her hand and yanked her around to face him.

"What?" She spit out venomously.

"God… damnit… Wendy…" He spoke between gulps of breath. "You stupid… ho…"

She ripped her hand from his grasp and whirled around to complete her task of getting the hell away from him.

"Don't get all pissy again!" He shouted after her. "Son of a bitch." He cursed to himself as he started chasing after her again. "This is such… _bullcrap!" _He crashed into her when she came to a dead stop and faced him once again.

"What do you _want_?" She demanded, crossing her arms tight.

"I want… you to stop… running, Goddamnit!" He answered.

She continued to watch him as his breath caught up with him, crystal eyes frozen on the chocolate brown of his. "Well?" She pried after a few moments.

"You want to come with me to-"

She interrupted him with a heartless laugh. "I don't want to be within a hundred yards of you! don't you get it? I hate you! I want you to leave me the hell alone! Stop talking to me and stop following me around! And, for the love of _God_, don't save me a seat on the bus anymore!"

"Oh, excuse me!" He snapped. "If that's how you want it, you can just sit with some fag like Craig or Pip."

"Maybe I will!" She announced. "It's certainly an improvement over _you!"_

"Why the hell do you hate me so much?" Desperateness was beginning to take over the anger. "Would it kill you to give me a chance?"

She shook her head at his stupidity. "If your own friends can't even trust you, why should I?"

"Because I like _you, _you stupid skank," He blurted. "I don't give a crap about those guys!"

"I _do!_" She reminded him. "And I don't give a crap about assholes like you!"

This time when she left, he let her go, too consumed by the flames of rejection to move.

* * *

It was always safe under your blanket.

No, that was a lie. But, it always _felt _safe under your blanket. No one could see you, no one could touch you. It was your own world and no one else's. You were hiding… hiding from whatever it was that scared you. It could be the belly-button eating, axe murderer from Starks Pond, the sweater under your bed you thought was a monster, or your best friend. The point was that you didn't have to face them. The point, was that you could breathe.

The lump under the blue blanket, formally known as Stan, trembled softly. Was it really possible to still be this embarrassed about what had happened earlier? It wasn't _that _bad, was it? Sure, he had been walking around with what felt like a power tool in his pants all damn day because of Kyle and his _voice, _but…

He felt his stomach flip-flop at the thought. Apparently it _was_ possible to still be this embarrassed. He shook more violently, literally making his entire bed quake. He was afraid of Kyle. He was afraid of himself, and the feeling deep in his stomach that seemed to have made a permanent home there. What was happening to him? He had completely lost control over his own body.

Everything seemed to be a great mess of swirls deep within himself. He couldn't make sense of anything he was feeling or thinking. It was like a goddamned knot that refused to untangle, from his mind or heart. And what made it unbearable was the fact that the person he always ran to for help was the person making him crazy with emotions he would rather not think about, even though he couldn't _stop_ thinking of them. He could always go to Chef, and he almost did. Something stopped him in the nick of time. Something told him he shouldn't. One reason being that Kyle talked to Chef, and Chef had a way of letting things slip. So, he was alone. Terribly alone to face a problem he didn't know how to deal with. A problem he never had to deal with before.

The familiar sting of tears bit at his eyes. Cartman was right, he _was_ a pussy.

The sound of the doorbell chiming made him turn his head quickly toward his bedroom door, which was futile considering the blanket perched over his head and face. He pulled it off quickly, further messing up his already bemused hair, wiped away premature tears with a sniff and dashed to the front door. It was late, Goddamnit! If whoever it was woke up his parents, or worse, Shelly, he was in for a pretty fucked up day tomorrow.

He opened the door quickly, already pissed off when he came face to face with a downright depressed looking Butters. "What the hell are you doing here?"

His eyes never left the ground even as he spoke. "My parents locked me out a-again."

"They locked you out?" Stan repeated, still sounding stern.

"Yeah. They always lock me out if I-I'm not home by seven." He explained, shamefully digging the toe of his foot into the porch.

"What the hell kind of sick weirdo's are they?" Stan hissed, getting angrier by the moment and not knowing why.

"W-well, I'm not real sure what kind," Butters answered seriously. "I didn't even know there _were_ different kinds."

"Butters, Goddamnit." Stan cursed with exasperation. "Get inside." He sidestepped the door to allow the unfortunate child in and clicked it closed when he entered fully. "Follow me." He ordered, stomping quietly up the stairs.

Butters obliged without a word, smiling despite Stan's obvious annoyance. It didn't matter to him whether or not Stan actually wanted him there, the point was that he actually invited him in. His smile faltered momentarily when he entered Stan's room and was hit with a sleeping bag.

"You sleep there." Stan pointed at the floor as he climbed into bed and turned to face the wall.

Butters looked from the boy he admired to the floor, and finally the sleeping bag he clutched. A smile broke across his face. "Gee, Stan. That's awful nice of you to let me stay in your room."

"Yeah." Stan snapped.

"A-and use your sleeping bag."

"Yeah."

"Just letting' me in at all."

"_Yeah."_

"Are you sure you really wanna-"

"Butters, yes, I am sure. Now will you do me a favor?"

"Heck, of course I will."

"Shut the hell up."

His smile faltered for the second time in five minutes, but it returned as quick as it had gone, and he happily smoothed the sleeping bag across the carpet and slipped inside. With a satisfied sigh, he smiled, taking in his surroundings. There wasn't a place in the world he would rather be. For once, he was actually glad his parents had locked him out. Normally he would take shelter in the abandon tree house Stan and Kyle had built two years ago. Stan had always made him feel safe for some reason, and the thought of being protected by something he had built had always been comforting. But, this… this was beyond compare. To actually be in Stan's room, with the blue eyed angel in the bed right beside him, was a feeling so unbelievable he never wanted it to end.

"Stan?" Butters voice cut through the silence once again.

"Hmm." came the almost inaudible grunt.

"Thanks for bein' my friend today."

"I've always been your friend, Butters." His tone clearly emphasized what he really wanted to say; "_God, Butters, you're such a Melvin."_

Butters bit his lower lip before deciding to elaborate. "Well, no, not really. Only when you guys needed me for somthin'. I mean thanks for acting like a real friend, hanging out with me and such. I get awful lonely sometimes."

Stan's eyes opened as he became more interested in what his would-be friend was saying. "You do?"

"Well, sure. It aint no fun bein' all by yourself all the time, and havin' everyone else saying you can't play with them because you're a pussy." He blinked a few times before continuing. "I've never told anyone this before, but sometimes I wonder why I was born at all. Even my parents would like it better if I weren't around."

Stan frowned deeply as his eyes scanned the wall. He was a bit stunned, but was able to persuade himself to speak what he felt in fact to be the truth. "That's not true."

Butter's smiled. This time, it completely lacked happiness. He knew he should just leave it at that. But, something in Stan's voice compelled him to proceed. Something told him that for once, it was okay to let his real feelings out. Stan wouldn't judge him harshly. Stan would listen. Stan… was his friend.

"I wish I could believe you." He droned. "One time they sold me, and a-another time my mom tried to kill me. I don't know if anyone could ever truly love me, if even my parents can't. Sometimes I get so sad I cry myself to sleep." He paused, giving a small laugh at his own expense. "I know it's too much to ask, with me not bein' cool or nothin', but all I've ever wanted was a friend."

Unable to stomach the nauseating feeling consuming him, Stan sat up and peered down at the blonde sympathetically. "Butters,"

"Oh, but that's alright, I'm used to it by now." He quickly interrupted. "I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate what you did. No one's ever done nothin' that nice for me before." He snuggled down into the sleeping bag a little deeper, and with a smile added, "Goodnight, Stan."

He stared down at Butters' happy expression, feeling like the lowest, filthiest scum on earth. He was right, none of them had ever really been a friend to him. And Stan could recall all the times they didn't include him because he wasn't cool enough. All he ever wanted was a friend, and they were too heartless to even give him that. They were too close- minded, too judgmental. They were everything that was scaring Stan into pushing Kyle away.

There were only two things he was certain about at the moment; He didn't want to be inconsiderate anymore, and he _didn't _hate Butters. He never had. The kid was just so _blonde_, mentally speaking, that it was hard to tolerate sometimes.

"Butters?"

His eyes opened slowly, reluctantly. "You w-want me ta leave, huh?"

Stan's expression of sorrow deepened. "No." He answered softly, hurt that the other boys' opinion of him was so low. He paused to study Butters worried eyes, hating himself for putting it there. "You don't have to sleep on the floor."

He looked confused and a bit hopeful, but it quickly dissolved. "I'm okay down here. Y-you've already done so much and-"

"Please," Stan cut in, sounding almost desperate. "I'd feel better if you did."

It was the truth, it just wasn't all of it. What he didn't admit to Butters or to himself, was that he felt so lonely himself, the added company would make him feel just a little bit normal again. Just a little less alone in the world.

Butters smiled. "Okay, then." He got up from the floor and crawled into bed. After they were settled and Stan gave up part of his blanket, he gave a content sigh. "You're the nicest person in the whole world. I sure am lucky I know you."

Stan's eyebrows were knit in distress as he watched the other boy, still smiling as he began to drift off to sleep. It made him almost sick to think about the things Butters had just confessed. He couldn't even begin to imagine how much it must hurt to be rejected by everyone around you, including your own parents. Parents were suppose to love their kids no matter what. Weren't they? They were suppose to be there to love and protect, not mentally abuse. And physically, if the purple, finger mark bruises on his arm were any indication.

"Butters?" It was Stan's turn to half whisper into the semi-dark room.

"W-what is it?" His eyes were opened again, only part way this time from the sleep tugging at them.

"Where…" He let his voice trail off on a sigh. He shouldn't ask, he shouldn't, but, "Where did you get those… those bruises?" He ran a finger lightly over the flawed skin to prove what he meant.

"O-oh, that," Butters stated, rubbing it nervously out of habit. "Sometimes that happens when my dad gets mad, a-and he grabs my arm so he can beat me when I'm bad."

"He beats you?"

"Yeah. Otherwise I-I won't learn my lesson." He repeated what his parents had obviously told him.

Stan turned this new piece of information over in his head a few times, examining it from every angle. Obviously the "beatings" couldn't be too bad, or they would have noticed other marks before.

Right?

"What does he do?" Stan pressed, swallowing back the quiver in his voice. God, he was being such a pussy today. Even more than usual.

"Mostly he just takes a belt to my behind." Butters answered, sounding more angry about it than afraid.

Stan relaxed slightly. "He doesn't whip your back, or try to choke you or anything, right?"

"No, nothin' like that." Butters assured with a small laugh. "You don't have ta worry about me."

Silence fell heavy like a woolen blanket as each drifted into separate thoughts. Butters taped all ten fingers against each other as he looked repeatedly from Stan to the ceiling. "W-why are you mad at Kyle?"

Stan turned his head quickly, and found himself staring into the wide, curious eyes beside him. "I'm not mad at Kyle."

A cricket chirped off in the distance, intensifying the second round of silence. Butters was the first to break it, "Sure seems like it. You wouldn't talk to him or- or nothin'. 'N after lunch, I saw Kenny huggin' him. He looked sad, Stan."

Stan looked away, frown deepening. He never figured ignoring Kyle would upset him. Piss him off, sure. It was easy to piss Kyle off. That's why he was Cartman's favorite target, because he stressed out about everything. But, to be upset enough to allow Kenny, the groper, to hug him…

He felt his heart stop, and begin again in painfully slow, hard pulses. He could feel this new emotion, jealousy, pump throughout his entire body, making the pit of his stomach ache. Why _was _Kyle hanging around Kenny so much today?

Butters next words froze him in place.

"Did you guys break up?"

He whipped his head around again. God, damn Butters must be an expert at giving whiplash. He should really team up with a big shot lawyer and make themselves some cases. "We were never together _to _break up." He informed, eyes narrowed at the innocent question.

"Friends with benefits?"

"_What?"_

"That's what Kenny told me. H-he says it's alright for friends to fool around with each other. Friends with benefits is- is what he called it."

Stan shook his head. "That's pretty fucked up."

"How come?"

"Dude," Stan whined, hand placed to his forehead in exasperation. "It sounds like Kenny was just trying to get some action from you. Yeah, people do have… friends with benefits. But in the end it fucks things up. Haven't you ever seen Jerry Springer?"

Butters shook his head indolently. "My mom says daytime television is evil, a-and if I watch it I'll wake up, bleedin' out my eyeballs."

Stan kept his eyes focused upward, expression blank. "Do you ever have nightmares?" He wondered aloud.

"Heck, I-I have 'em all the time." He declared. "I'm not real sure why, though."

He had no choice but to bite his tongue, cover his eyes with his hand, and shake his head. "Goodnight, Butters."

That easy smile graced his features again. "Goodnight, Stan." He shifted beneath the blue blanket that covered the both of them, and settled closer to Stan, just enough to feel body heat, but not enough to get thrown out of bed and onto the floor again.

Stan hardly even noticed. His mind had already drifted back to his best friend. Not even anything in particular, just _him. _His eyes, his smile, his… _voice._

He felt goose bumps wash over him seconds before the now-familiar tingling sensation started in his lower stomach.

_Christ, not again. Not with Butters here…_

Liquid heartache filled his eyes. Only one thing stopped him from sobbing manically, and that was the fact that he wasn't alone anymore. At least there was someone else with him, hiding from the world under his blanket.

When Butters breathing at long last became deep and even, indicating he had fallen into a peaceful sleep, Stan turned to his side, placed his arm across Butters, buried his face in the crook of his neck, and allowed his mind to wander toward Kyle as he softly cried himself to sleep.

* * *

_-BratChild3 (Lisha)_


	11. Apple Jacks

**Chapter 11- Apple Jacks.**

There was warmth burning next to him. Not the kind of warm that makes you feel sticky and heavy, but the good kind of warm, the cuddly kind of warm. It gave him goose bumps and sent a shiver up his spine. Though he was relishing the feel, he was perplexed. He had only remembered feeling this kind of warmth once; A long time ago when he had scraped his knee and his mother had cuddled him until the tears went away.

No one had ever cuddled him since then. No one would _want _to. So, why would it be warm now?

He shifted slightly, trying to wake up fully but unable to do so. That was another thing. He had never slept through the night before. _Ever. _He was always haunted by evil and torturous things in his dreams, things that prevented him from waking to the sound of morning doves, and instead to the sound of his own screams. But, now, he had been sleeping deep. So deep, he still couldn't pry his eyelids open.

With a content and sleepy moan, he moved closer to the source of the warmth and snuggled against it.

_Stan…_

He could smell Stan, something an awful lot like flowers. It made him smile. Smile and open his eyes to a room just starting to show off the blue-ish hue of a new morning that hadn't quite reached dawn. A deep yawn engulfed him, breaking way to a smile when he caught sight of his own personal heater; Stan, curled up and facing toward his window. It was a shame, Butters thought, that he couldn't see his face, but the adorable sight of his dark hair tousled and tangled was good enough.

He was restless, he realized, and confirmed his suspicions when he glance at the bright green numbers on Stan's alarm clock. No wonder he felt like he should get up.

He cast another glance at Stan, clanked his knuckles together, huffed, and turned to his side. Maybe if he got more comfortable he could fall back to sleep. Facing _toward _Stan would make him feel more comfortable.

He turned again.

"Butters," Stan groaned into his pillow. "What the hell are you doing?"

He was put off for a moment at the unexpected voice, but his heart quickly settled. "I-I can't get back to sleep." His explanation was pouty.

"Why the hell not?"

"Heck, it's already six o clock."

Stan faked sobs in frustration. Who the hell got up at six o clock in the morning on purpose? This kid was more of a freak than they _ever_ gave him credit for. "Lay. Be still." He commanded.

"Aren't you gonna- gonna get up?" Butters asked, innocently enough, but not enough to fade Stan's frustration.

"Is it light outside?" He questioned dully, not even bothering to pry his eyelids open to check for himself.

"W-well, not exactly-"

"Then no." Stan cut in.

"But-"

"Dude, we can still sleep in another hour. Why would you want to get up when you don't have to?"

He balled his fists, rubbing his knuckles together anxiously as he spoke. "I always get up this early. Otherwise my parents will think I'm lazy."

"Do _they _get up this early?"

Silence enclosed them for a moment before Butters answered. "No," As if he had just realized this for the first time.

"We can sleep in another hour," Stan assured, retaining every ounce of irritation. "That's when my parents get me up."

Butters sigh was silent as he stared up at the ceiling and waited for what felt like a million years to either fall asleep or for the clock to strike seven.

The seconds felt like hours.

He bit his lower lip, glanced at the boy beside him and sighed, not so silently this time. To Stan, he sounded like a steam engine, loud and annoying, breaking his early morning _quiet _and preventing him the extra sleep he desperately needed after the less-than-restful night he had.

He squeezed his eyes tighter, forcing himself to not yell out at his guest, who seemed to have taken a keen liking to tossing and turning in his bed. It felt like he was trying to sleep on a sail boat in the middle of a storm. With every movement he tensed more, until finally… it stopped.

Now it was _too _still.

His eyes popped open, only to find Butters leaning over him, peering down with those wide, childlike eyes of his. "Oh, good, you're up." He remarked cheerfully, a smile smoothing over his face.

Stan sighed, looking heavenward. "What the hell could you possibly do for a full hour while you're waiting to go to school?"

Butters sat up fully, crossing his legs Indian style. "I-I like ta eat cereal and watch cartoons, mostly. A-and sometimes, if it's not to cold, I'll walk to school instead of taking the bus."

It was stupid to ask this kid anything, considering he never shut-up as it was, but Stan's brain was out of service until approximately seven-thirty a.m. every morning, except on weekends when it didn't function until nine or ten, and found himself asking, "Why?"

"Because then I don't have ta find somewhere to sit." He explained. "Sometimes Tweek lets me , ah, sit with him. But mostly, I just get pushed from one seat to another 'til we get to school."

Stan felt his stomach burn with acid, and was fully reminded of Butters sudden burst of true confessions the previous night. He felt himself caving in to Butters innocent charms, and with a sigh, reluctantly agreed. "Okay, Butters. Let's eat cereal and watch cartoons."

"Oh boy!" He hooted, and bounded out of bed with all the energy of a two year old.

Stan, on the contrary, had steps to getting out of bed.

One; Sit up.

Two: Stretch and yawn.

Three; Throw off blanket.

Four; Swing one leg over the side of the bed.

Five; Swing second leg over the side of the bed.

Six; Slide off and stagger out the door, scratching your stomach on the way.

Seven; Separate each step by at least one minute.

On this particular day, as he slid off his mattress, so did a photo. It caught him in the middle of his second yawn as it fluttered to the carpet. He peered down at it, and there, looking up at him, was the picture of him and Kyle, forever frozen in a lip lock.

He swallowed back a lump of emotion that had welled in his throat, and slowly retrieved it. In the privacy of his own room, when his head was clearest, he could admit that in the picture the kiss _did_ look awfully real.

Too real.

It made his stomach clench up, a whirlwind of emotions beginning to roar and rage through him. He felt jealous. Jealous of _himself_ for kissing Kyle. Jealous that the person in the picture would be that way forever, and for him it had to end. He felt sick. Sick that he could still remember the taste of that kiss, and sicker that he wanted to taste more. And he was angry. Angry at the boy in the picture for looking so calm about it, for not knowing that that was the start of everything going wrong. That from there on end, he would feel a twinge in his heart whenever he saw _Kyle…_

"Stan?" Butters voice called softly, followed by the mellow creek of the door being pushed open. "Are you gonna come down?"

"I'll be right there." He promised absentmindedly, stuffing the image into the elastic band of his pajama pants. He quickly blinked away tears. "I need to take a shower first."

It was only half-truthful. In reality, he knew he needed to release another round of sobs, or he would never make it through school.

………

He came down the stairs with droplets dripping from his wet bangs, feeling every ounce of misery he did the previous day, only tenfold. It seemed he became more confused with every passing moment.

He loved Kyle, that much was simple. He always had, as a brother and his very best friend. As the person he knew would always be there for him. As the person he would give his life for if luck wasn't on their side. And he knew that Kyle loved him the same way. There was a fine line between love, _love_, and lust, and judging from recent experience, he was suspecting Kyle might in fact be invoking all three in him.

"Hey, Stan," Butters greeted, pausing to laugh at the brightly colored cartoon before adding, "Want some cereal?" He held his spoon out, dropping a soggy Apple Jack into his lap. His head snapped down, taking in the orange circle, surrounded by a ring of milk, that now resided on his pants. "Aw, it's all gooey." He complained as he picked it up.

Stan cracked a smile, not being able to help himself as he sat beside his new friend and accepted a bite of "gooey" cereal. "Good." He decided out loud, and grabbed the box between them. He felt like Cartman, digging his hand into the box and stuffing sugary O's down his throat to try and keep his mind away from Kyle and the new emotions wavering over him. But, it was working, and keeping the tears down was all that mattered to him at the moment.

"It's my favorite kind," Butters informed, smiling so cheerfully it made Stan's heart ache.

The unfortunate bastard was happy about _cereal_, for Gods sake. And they thought Kenny was deprived…

"I-I never get this kind." He continued, oblivious to Stan's sudden interest in everything he had to say. Normally, Stan wouldn't give a crap, and though Butters knew that he didn't, he would always go on, talking mostly to himself. "Cause my parents say that it- it'll rot my teeth." His eyes were blank as he stared into his bowl of milk, only a few spoonfuls of cereal left.

Stan stopped chewing the cereal in his mouth. "You okay, dude?"

He looked up, smiling despite the sadness in his eyes. Gray- blue colored. Like a cloudy sky, and every bit as animated and lively as a summer storm.

"I don't w-wanna go ta school." He admitted, his voice dropping a few more notes before adding, "I don't wanna be alone again."

Stan absorbed this, taking two more slow chews of cereal. It tasted foul. "You wont be." He grinned at Butters uneasiness. "You have me now." His heart throbbed painfully at the way the blonde's eyes lit up.

"You mean it? W-we're real friends, now?"

Stan nodded slowly. "Real friends now." He swallowed back nausea with his mouthful of dry breakfast and allowed himself to be hugged, knowing full well Butters was inevitably his replacement Kyle. And _that _made him feel sicker than sick.

* * *

The sky was swirled with gray that day. It created an almost eerie reflection of the way Kyle felt inside. Cold, desperate, alone. Calm anger, right at the surface but holding back, ready to release at any give moment.

His eyes were haunted as they searched the dreary heavens, almost as if he were looking for an answer to Stan's behavior. A reason _why._

Sometimes there wasn't an answer. At least not one clear enough to find. They had cut class a few days before, and had fun. Like old times. And when they split, Stan was fine. He was normal. He was… smiling.

It made his heart hurt and his fists clench bitterly. He could hear Cartman's repulsive cackle echo through his head, the words he dreaded, but feared may actually be true…

_Stan is going to ditch you…._

_Stan is going to ditch you…._

_Stan is going to ditch you…._

He squeezed his eyes closed against the pain and breathed deep the slow gust of wind that picked up for a moment, making the leaves shiver before slowly dying out again.

"You're just asking for it."

He dropped his head, but his eyes remained closed as he whispered, "Kenny, not today."

"No, dude, really," He droned, sizing up his friend with growing enthusiasm. "Damn, you're so _hot _when you pout like that."

"I'm _not _pouting."

"Makes you look so fuckable."

With an angry grunt he turned to face the other direction, offering no further conversation. He was already pissed off enough without Kenny hitting on him today.

_Fuckable,_ He thought bitterly_. God damnit._

"Do you need a hug?" Kenny asked, mimicking a frown as his hand inched up Kyle's arm. He immediately received a _Thwack! _on the wrist. "_Crap!" _He yelped, pulling back and cradling the abused hand. "God damn, Kyle, what the hell?"

"Just leave me alone." He murmured, head hung low.

"Aren't you coming to school?" He never got an answer, but instead was interrupted by laughter approaching.

Both friends looked up, Kenny with obvious interest, Kyle not so much, and were greeted by the sight of Stan and Butters walking side by side, talking in hushed voices and laughing amongst themselves. Kenny's first reaction was to look at Kyle, who now wore a heartbroken expression as he watched the two boys in the distance draw closer.

Stan was the first to notice they were being watched. He came to an abrupt halt, eyes locking with the green of Kyle's. His smile, thoughts, heart, and breath stalled. In that moment, it seemed the two were the only people alive, and everything in their world was frozen in time.

Kenny gauged each of the best friends carefully as they stared at each other with identical expressions, impossible to figure out what emotion lay behind it, until after only a few seconds, Stan broke away without a word.

Kyle groaned mournfully and covered his eyes with his hands. Kenny placed a ginger hand on his shoulder and looked toward Butters, who stood frozen, unsure what had just happened and what he should do about it. Kenny allowed a moment to absorbed the wide, innocent gaze. It hypnotized him, mesmerized him, like a spell he _wanted _to be under. A lovesick smile drew up his face, although it couldn't be seen. He let out a sigh, nudging his chin in the direction Stan had gone. Butters gave a grateful smile and traced Stan's footsteps.

Kenny's eyes roamed his body as he walked away. That nervous, giddy blonde was _hot ass, _and seemed to be getting more irresistible every day. Kenny noticed this of course, but never actually considered just how fucking fuckable he was until gym the previous day. Normally he watched Stan, but yesterday his eyes were glued to Butters. Or, rather, the loose towel that had been draped around his hips. Not only that, but his smile. That shy, sweet smile that was practically Butters trademark.

He gave another sigh and turned his attention back to the matter at hand. "Kyle," He started, using his "real" concerned voice and of course using the opportunity to caress his neck and shoulder. "If it's bothering you that much that he wants time away from you, make him give you a reason."

"No," He shook his head and pulled his hands away from his face. "If he doesn't want to be my friend anymore, than fuck it. Who needs him anyway?"

"You need him, obviously." Kenny observed, gaining a stinging glare. "It's true. He hangs out with Butters for one day, and you're a wreck."

"I'm _not _a wreck!" He yelled, startling Kenny with the intensity. "I'm fine. I'll be just fucking fine, you'll see!" He paused, giving a determined glare for effect before storming away, leaving Kenny frozen in place.

"God, _damn _he's a sexy bastard!" He shouted his sexual frustration to the surrounding trees before breaking into a run to catch up.

* * *

"Hello there, children."

"Hey, Chef."

"Hey, Chef." Kenny echoed, slightly late in response. His eyes had been locked on Kyle all day, and lunch was no exception. The Jew was still pouting, still bursting with explosive energy, and that turned Kenny on to no end. It made school a whole hell of a lot more interesting, that was for damn sure. It was practically the only time he has been too pre-occupied to pay attention when the teacher was going on about female anatomy.

"Kyle, where's Stan?" Chef voiced his curiosity.

"Stan _who?_" He growled.

Chef's eyebrows shot up. "Uh oh."

"Stan's banging Butters now." Cartman explained simply. "He can't be bothered with whinny, diabetic Jews anymore."

"Shut the hell up, you gigantic fat fuck!"

"Don't call me fat, you fucking Jesus killer!" He emphasized each word.

"Whoa, whoa," Chef intervened. "Now, tell me what this is all about."

"It's all Cartman's fault because he's a big, crusty asshole!" Kyle announced.

Cartman sighed calmly. "Kyle's just pissed off because he isn't getting sex anymore, plus he's still on his period."

"What do you mean _anymore?" _He demanded, completely sidestepping the period remark. He had been at it for two weeks. "I've never had sex to begin with!"

"Maybe that's your problem." Kenny opinionated.

"I don't have a problem!"

Cartman placed a hand to his ear and rubbed mercilessly. "Excuse me, but you seem to have a problem controlling _your god damn screaming habit!"_

"Oh Lord, what did you do this time, Eric?" Chef inquired.

"I haven't done anything to these assholes!" He defended.

"He teased Stan continuously about having a boner for me, now he wont talk to me anymore!" Kyle counter corrected.

"God damn, boy, can't you stop being a little shit for one day?"

Cartman scoffed. "And be a pussy like these guys? Fuck that shit."

Chef scooped a heap of pudding on his tray and pointed away. "Take your food and get out of here, so I can talk to the children without you pissing them off more."

"No hair off my dick." He remarked as he walked away. For once, he couldn't care less about the food on his tray. He was far too interested in finding a better dessert. Wendy. She wasn't hard to find. She had decided to sit alone today, her face buried in a book that probably had something to do with school.

He approached her nice enough, with a stupid ass smile and everything. It took a few tries of him walking toward her table, and turning away, trying to thing of exactly how to word what he wanted without making her run away again, but also, not in a way that would make her think he actually had a heart or anything.

He cursed himself silently at how nervous he felt, wiping his slick palms on his pants.

"No." She said flatly, her eyes never leaving her book.

"God damnit, I haven't even said anything yet!"

"It doesn't matter, Cartman." Wendy spat. "I don't want to hear you, I don't want to see you, I don't even want to _look _at you."

"That's tough shit, isn't it?" He asked, sitting across from her at the table she resided at. "I have a proposition for you."

"Jesus Christ." She rolled her eyes, going back to her lunch that consisted of a peanut butter sandwich and fresh strawberries. She popped one into her mouth, chewing carefully and pretending he wasn't there.

"Here's what I was thinking-"

"Not listening." She informed irately.

"I swear to God, Wendy, if you-" He broke of his sentence when she peered up at him, eyes the color of the Caribbean. "God damn hippie," He growled to himself. "Just-" He gave a sigh. "Just hear me out, okay?"

She ran her tongue over her lower lip, thoughtfully considering this offer. "If I do, will you leave me alone?"

"Yes."

"And never, ever bother me again?"

"Yes."

She folded her book neatly in her lap, laced her fingers on the tabletop, and blessed him with those eyes again. "You have my undivided attention and exactly two minutes to convince me that you deserve more."

"Sweeeeet." He remarked, knowing full well he was a good manipulator and an even better negotiator. "I understand your deep, undying loathing of me comes from your connection with Stan, who's connected with Kyle, who I want to kill. If I could somehow reverse this useless cycle by tolerating them, then maybe your loathing will in turn, change to love."

"Bull crap." She stated.

"God damnit!" He quickly changed back to his business tone. "Perhaps if I were to… God forbid, apologize in your company-"

"No."

He slammed his hands onto the table, a colorful string of curses flowing easily through his lips. She never even flinched.

"I'll tell you what I want."

He eased up immediately, his interest piqued. "Go on,"

"You restore Stan and Kyle's friendship, and I'll go on one date with you." She offered.

"Really?" He asked, completely stunned. "All I have to do is get the fags back together?"

"And stop calling them that!" She demanded. "That's the whole reason this started!"

"But, I can call them assholes?" He asked.

She pursed her lips. "I don't like it, but-"

"Deal." He agreed. "Don't worry, Wendy, I'll fix everything."

…………………..

"Children," Chef started sympathetically seconds after Cartman had walked away. "Sometime when people say somthin' over and over 'gain, you start to believe it. You say Eric's been screwing with Stan's head, tellin' him all kind of crazy things that are probably scarin' him shitless. Sound to me like Eric's teasing hit too close to home, now he's backin' away, afraid someone might fine out."

Kyle stared back, mouth agape. "You think Stan has a boner for me?"

Kenny's eyes shifted hastily, feeling guilty for knowing the truth about Stan when even his best friend didn't. It made him uncomfortable, guilt being a foreign emotion to him.

"No, no. I'm not sayin' that." Chef corrected, holding both hands out in a 'stop' gesture. "I'm sayin' that it's possible. And even if that's not the reason he actin' so funny, you need to make him talk to you, cause it might be somthin' worse goin' on with him." There was a pause while he plopped tapioca pudding on their trays, Kyle considering, Kenny looking worried. "Now go eat your lunch, before your hot gets cold and your cold gets warm."

They walked away without a word, slipping into their usual table. Neither spoke or ate for a long time. The not-eating rare for Kenny and the not-talking rare for Kyle.

"Kyle-" Kenny began, about to explain to him that Stan couldn't help the way he felt, when Kyle broke in.

"What if something's really wrong with him?" His eyes were void of sight, empty, hollow. "What if he cuts? What if he wants to kill himself?" The worry filled his eyes and voice higher and higher, drowning out his common sense.

And Kenny blinked, perplexed at the words. The thought of Stan actually have a _thing _for him still wasn't logical, in Kyle's own little mind. He had completely ignored the possibility that maybe Cartman's predictions were true, and was now fully engrossed on the possibility that Stan was a manic depressive, suicidal, cereal killer. He chuckled beneath his hood. "I don't think-"

"There he is," Kyle burst out quietly, pointing behind Kenny. "Does he look insane to you?"

"He's not insane, Kyle." Kenny insisted, slightly annoyed at his overeating. He liked him better sulking. "But if you want to talk to him, you should do it now. They're gonna split." He gestured toward the door.

"Shit." Kyle cursed softly, springing from his seat. "Stan!" He called, and actually got his attention on the first try.

Kenny was quick to follow, intent on keeping Butters occupied while the other two talked. He linked his arm with the stormy-eyed angel and pulled him away gently.

"W-what's goin' on? Huh, Kenny? Are they gonna f-fight?" Butters rambled nervously as he was ushered to a table and pushed gently onto the seat.

Kenny opted to sit beside him rather then across from him, keeping their arms intertwined. He rubbed the hand that was now in his possession as he spoke. Psychical contact was the quickest form of seduction. "Everything's okay. They just need to talk about a few things."

Butters broke away from Kenny's intense gaze. "I-I'm suppose to h-hang out with Stan. He's my f-friend now."

"I'm your friend, too." Kenny promised, easing himself closer as inconspicuously as possible. His hand coasted up the fabric of Butters arm and back down to grasp his hand. "You're tense," He decided, turning the current object of his lust around and forcing him to leaned up against him.

"See, I-I don't really think that-"

"Just relax." Kenny persuaded, massaging tense shoulders. "Feels good, doesn't it?"

He had to consider it a moment. "Gee, I-I guess it kinda does." He admitted, his entire body relaxing suddenly.

Kenny smiled a big, wide "_hell yes," _sort of smile and let his hands roam down Butters shoulders and across his chest.

Across the cafeteria, Kyle voiced the four most dreaded words in the English language; "We need to talk."

This, of course, was double fucked up for Stan, who was not only afraid of where this talk would lead, but also the fact that Kyle's voice alone was magic, and his lower regions believed in that more than anything.

"I don't think it's such a good idea." He spoke now, backing away from his former best friend.

Kyle matched every step, neither stopping until Stan's back hit the wall. He was cornered, stuck… unable to move without having to brush up against Kyle to do it, and that idea sucked worse than tolerating his _voice._

"_I _think it's a good idea." Kyle informed. "What the _fuck _is going on with you, Stan? I need you to talk to me. _Just_ talk to me."

"Dude, I really don't think this is such a good idea." He warned, trying to push himself into the wall and disappear.

"Goddamnit, Stan!" He yelled, his hands shooting out to grab hold of the said boys shoulders and hold him against the wall. "You're not leaving until you tell me why the hell you're ditching me for Butters!"

_Touching! Touching! Touching!_ Stan's mind screamed at him, letting him know loud and clear that his senses were fully aware of every finger curling into his upper arms. "C-can't." He choked out.

"You can't what?" He demanded, fire flicking in his emerald eyes. "I'm your best friend. You can tell me anything."

Stan bit his lip, stifling his breathing. If Kyle stepped one inch closer, he would be able to feel everything. The thought was exhilarating, making his head spin wildly.

"C'mon, Stan…" Kyle's plea caressed his ears, sending more shivers through him.

"No!" He breathed out, refusing to look at the eyes burning into his. "Fuck you!"

"Why don't you want to tell me?"

"Because I don't!" His shout overpowered Kyle's, gaining the attention of several other people. He was hard again. So hard it fucking hurt, and all it would take was one wrong movement and his cover would be blown. This time, he let his fear do all the talking. "You want the truth? Fine, here's the truth; I don't want you around anymore, Kyle! It makes me sick to be near you! I can't stand looking at you, I can't stand thinking about you, I can't stand hearing your voice, I can't stand _you! _I want you to _fuck off_ and stay the hell away from me! You're not my best friend anymore!"

It was the kind of shock you receive when you've just found out someone you love died. The kind that strikes you right away, but doesn't fully register until days later. The kind that first renders you emotionless, dead yourself while you wait for the full blown effect of the heartache to consume your soul. In the blink of an eye, Stan was gone, leaving Kyle helpless and alone and emotionally dead.

Somewhere in the cafeteria, Cartman turned his startled expression from the scene that had just taken place, to the girl sitting across from him. She shook her head disapprovingly.

"Don't worry, Wendy, I'll fix everything." She quoted him sarcastically.

His eyebrows furrowed. "Son of a bitch!"

* * *

_-BratChild3_


	12. Kyle has Rabies

**Chapter 12- Kyle has Rabies.**

_Don't be a pussy, Marsh. Don't cry… don't cry… for the love of God, don't cry…_

His mental coaching wasn't helping. Tears formed behind his eyes, but he silenced them with deep breaths. It stunk like piss and the words "Fuck you, faggot" were scratched across the wall. He blinked at it, seeing the words but unable to process its meaning. It stared back at him in a smoky haze, like someone had actually been offended and was stupid enough to try and scrub it off. His crystalline eyes scanned over the message a second time, this time taking root in his brain.

_Faggot…_

He choked on a dry sob and pressed his face to his raised knees. It didn't bother him, not the words and not the smell. There were far bigger issues at hand. If his outburst ten minutes ago were any concern, he would be afraid he were a spastic psycho. Even if he were, fuck it. The only thing that mattered to him was the look on Kyle's face after he was told they weren't best friends anymore. It was enough to make the coldest, most unfeeling bastard cry, and he wondered shortly if Cartman had been affected at all.

The sound of the boys bathroom door swinging open and whooshing closed again made him jump in reflex. The soles of his shoes hit the old, cracked tile with an echoing _smack, _putting a stop to the footsteps he could hear sneaking closer. He quickly pulled his knees back up to his chest, resting his feet on the toilet seat he was perched upon. His eyes squeezed closed as a silent prayer whispered through his lips, begging this person to fuck off.

Nothing ever came easy for a Marsh…

A soft knock was issued, followed by a voice he knew all too well. "Stan, i-is that you?"'

_Just go away…I don't need you, I don't want you… Please, just go away…_

"Aw, c'mon, Stan," the voice begged after an extended period of silence. "You can talk ta me. I-I aint gonna laugh at you or-or nothin'. I promise."

The tears found their way through his tightly shut eyelids, steaming down his cheeks like identical waterfalls. _Son of a bitch! _His mind screamed as his palm cracked against the side of the stall.

"Stan?" Butters asked, frantic concern now laced within. "If you don't open the door, I-I'll knock it down. Boy, will I."

_Fuck off!_ A sob hiccupped its way out_. God, Kyle, I'm sorry…_

"Okay, Stan," Butters warned. "I'm comin' in."

Stan listened to his footsteps as he walked slowly backward and then lunged forward, slamming himself against the stall door.

It didn't budge.

"Ow." The blonde announced simply. There was complete silence, save Stan's light sniffles before he tried again. "I-if you don't come outta there right now, I'll… I-I'll make Kenny come get you!"

"Go away." He answered the threat in a dull, lifeless tone.

"I thought we were friends," it was voiced with soft disappointment. "H-how can we be friends i-if you don't trust me none?"

Stan opened his eyes slowly. The tears were less, allowing him peace, however small it was.

"I know I'm not Kyle," the other side of the stall informed. "A-and I'm not gonna try and be. But I promise to be the best friend I can. You just have ta let me in first, otherwise I-I guess I'm not doing a very good job."

Maybe it was the sincerity in his voice, the need to have a friend, or it could have even been that the stench was finally overpowering his better judgment, any way you looked at it, he caved in.

_What the hell am I doing?_ He thought, even as he reached out with a trembling hand and unlatched the door to the stall he hid in.

Butters stood at the other end, clearly surprised he hadn't been shunned. It made Stan want to laugh and cry and scoff all at the same time. The poor kid was so _fucked up_ and didn't even realize it. That pissed him off because _he _was fucked up, and it made him wonder how long he had been and never knew it.

"I heard w-what you said ta Kyle." Butters stated simply, rubbing nervously at his hand. "What'dya do that for?"

Stan closed his eyes painfully. "I just can't deal with him right now."

"You're r-really not friends anymore?" Stan shook his head. "Gee, Stan, maybe you should just hump him a-an get it over with." He paused, completely overlooking Stan's mortification before concluding with an after thought. "Kenny told me ta say that."

Stan blew out a breath and snorted a short laugh of relief, thankful his situation wasn't _that_ obvious. "Did he also tell you to find me?" He purposely directed the conversation further away from Kyle, not feeling up to pouring his heart out to his new friend just yet.

"No, n-not exactly." Butters admitted. "He wouldn't let me up. He kept on sayin' that I-I'd feel really good if I stayed with him."

"Yeah, I'll bet." Stan rolled his eyes sarcastically. He stepped off the porcelain bowl before giving word of advice. "Just never go into a closet with him."

"H-how come, does he bite?" Butters followed like a shadow to the sinks, where he watched Stan's reflection for an answer.

"Yeah, he bites alright. I had a hickey last month that proved it." He turned on the cold tap water, splashing his face a few times. "God damn sexaholic branded me in my sleep. That's the last time I buy his, 'Can I crash here? My parents are fucking too loud' line."

Butters gasped dramatically, eyes wide and vivid. "He's r-really a Dracula, huh? My parents always said," He scrunched up his face, imitating the stern look his dad always wore. "Somethin's wrong with that McCormick kid. He's not right, I'm telling you, he's just not right." His face immediately relaxed into his usual concern. "Y-you don't think I-I'm one of him now that he touched me, do yah?" He grabbed frantically at the crook of his neck. "Cause I-I think I felt his mouth right here."

"Jesus Christ," Stan huffed. "nothing's wrong with Kenny. He's just a horny bastard." He promised.

"Oh," Butters pondered, allowing Stan a few steps toward the bathroom door before darting to follow. "I was just thinking' somthin'." He informed, all thoughts of "Dracula's" vanishing suddenly. "How come every time someone gets upset they hide in the toilet? Huh, Stan? W-what would you go and do that for?"

Stan covered his eyes with his hand, exasperated already. But, instead of getting mad at the stupidity, he pulled his hand away from his face and placed it around Butters shoulder in a brotherly gesture, "Lets play some basketball before we have to go back to class."

"Oh, well, gosh, that sounds swell a-and everythin', but I don't really know how to play all that good."

"That's okay, I can teach you." He offered.

For once, he was actually able to push Kyle out of his mind. Maybe hanging out with the melvin would be good for him. Maybe it could teach him something more about innocence. Jesus knew South Park didn't have enough of that.

* * *

"God damnit, I am so pissed off!" Cartman's shout, as well as pounding fists echoed through his room, momentarily drowning out the sound of night insects. "Those assholes are such pussies! They always have to screw everything up for me!" he leaned his cheek against his palm with a huff, his anger dwindling when he glanced down at the picture of Wendy on his desk.

It was outdated.

So outdated, she didn't even have tits yet. He had stolen it from Stan when him and Wendy were still going out in the fourth grade. Maybe he could get a new one without having to steal it this time. This was thought with a smile, until once again his musings turned to the matter at hand. It wouldn't ever happen if Stan didn't stop sissy screaming at Kyle.

"Son of a bitch!" He thundered. "This is such bull crap! I was suppose to be able to say, 'Stan, I was just fucking with you' and he was suppose to call me a fat ass and cling to Kyle like a dick weed again. Now I have to actually be nice and help the assholes or Wendy wont go out with me." He slipped off his chair a waddled to his bed.

"Clyde frog, I-" He sighed. "I'd rather chew off my own dick than help Kyle."

The toy stared back, as if thinking up some fountain of wisdom. "I know it's super weak, but what other choice do I have?" Another brief pause filled the room as he listened to his dolls inner voice. "No I can't just say 'screw the hippie'. It's not that simple anymore." He looked thoughtful before adding, "I think I might actually… love her." He glowered angrily. "And Goddamnit, if you laugh I swear to God I'll chop off your nuts!"

It felt weird to say he loved her out loud. Weird and strangely relieving. He had toyed with the idea some, contemplated it, but never took it too seriously. Now that it was actually voiced, the idea didn't sound quite as far-fetched as it originally had.

"This is my chance, Clyde Frog," Cartman spoke seriously. "Wendy will go out with me, but- and this is a very big but- I have to hook the fags up." He got up from the edge of his bed, padding over to his window to peer out. "This is going to be a tough mission. They're obviously both having their periods. The PMS is so strong even Kenny's ghetto stench can't overpower it, and there's no sign of it stopping anytime soon." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully,

stopping suddenly and spinning around to look at his stuffed toy. "Bribe them with chocolate? That's a great idea, Clyde Frog. Chicks love chocolate!"

* * *

"It's over, Kenny." Kyle's voice was low, lacking any and all emotion. He sat on his porch, elbows resting on his knees and chin lain against his palms. "From now on, I have to get used to life without Stan."

Kenny placed a brown-gloved hand on the redheads shoulder. "Not necessarily."

He blinked heavily. Obviously he hadn't slept a wink, and every minute was now evident in his eyes that drooped and the rings of purple under them. "I wish I knew what I did. I thought we were tight, you know? I thought… nothing could come between us."

"Well, can you blame him?" Kenny questioned. "Butters gives me a woody wood pecker, too."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Everything does."

He thought this over, finally scrunching his nose in disgust. "Not _everything_."

"What am I going to do?" Kyle was already focused on Stan once again.

"We've been friends so long, I don't know how to stop being his friend. How can I just ignore him? How do I forget?"

Without missing a second, Kenny pressed closer and caressed downward. "Meet me in the janitors closet first period. When you come out, you wont even be able to walk straight, let alone remember what a 'Stan' is."

Kyle pushed at him, accomplishing absolutely nothing. Kenny was like a leach, once he latched on there was no possible way to get him off. "Goddamnit, Kenny, cant you have one conversation without turning it into sex?"

Kenny pause, still holding tight and decided, "I don't know. Never tried it."

A low, incredibly pissed growl emitted from Kyle's lips as he continued to try and pry the low class boy off.

"Hello, Kyle," Cartman's overly pleasant, 'I'm-up-to-more-bullshit' tone was in tact as he greeted the frustrated Jew.

"Fuck off, fatass!" He immediately wailed.

"But Kyle, I'm here to-"

"I don't care what you're doing here or why. God damnit, Cartman, you made Stan hate me! I never want to see you again, unless it's at your funeral so I can spit on your cold, dried up corpse!"

Cartman stared back blankly before pulling a box of chocolates from behind his back. "I'm hurt you feel that way, Kyle. I brought these for you, to show you I'm sorry for what I did. I do hope you can forgive me."

Kyle was -at first- surprised. He accepted the box of chocolates before scowling even deeper. "You sick bastard!" He screeched, baffling both Cartman and Kenny equally. "You only bought these because sugar is like poison to diabetics and you want me dead!"

"Oh, God damnit," Cartman sighed. He had completely forgotten that little fact. "You're always eating candy!"

"It's sugar free!"

"I'll eat it." Kenny snatched the unwanted treats away, immediately going to work on the cellophane wrapping.

"Kyle, we both need something," He spoke over the crinkling noise. "Help me to help you. If you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours."

"That's not really an even trade since your back's the size of a house!"

"God damnit, you fucking son of a bitch!"

Kenny watched on, completely un-phased by the obvious tension and popping chocolates into his mouth.

"You want your overly-sensitive, ass ramming boyfriend back, don't you!"

"Would you shut the hell up about the gay remarks?"

"Stan is _hot_ for _you_." He stressed. "I know it, Jesus knows it, even Kenny knows it!"

The mentioned boy paused with his mouth open, a chocolate half way to it's destination.

"Kenny?" Kyle asked, looking hurt his 'friend' would actually be siding with the fat-ass.

"I didn't say anything." He gave a shrug, stuffing three more candies into his mouth to create an excuse not to talk.

"Why the hell do you think he's ignoring you? It's your _voice_, Kyle, your _voice _gives him a stiffy!"

"How the hell would you know something like that?" Kyle demanded.

"It's only obvious. Did you even see his face when you called his name in class yesterday? He nearly had an orgasm all over the place."

Kenny snorted a loud laugh, immediately covering his mouth to try and keep his food from flying everywhere.

"Don't encourage him!" Kyle insisted.

Kenny waved his hand in defense while he swallowed everything down, still choking on laughter. "I can't help it, Kyle, because it's true."

"If you don't believe us, just test him." Cartman suggested. "Pin him to the ground and start moaning in his ear or some stupid shit like that. Mark my words Kyle, he will shoot his load all over his pants."

"I am _not_ going to try to arouse my best friend!" He swiped his hand outward, emphasizing his point.

"There are two things wrong with that, asshole! First, you don't have to _try _to "arouse" him, all you have to do is talk. And secondly, he isn't your best friend anymore! He fucking hates you, in case you've forgotten!"

Kyle's breathing had become more and more ragged, evidence of his growing anger until finally he let out a loud yell of complete hatred and lunged at Cartman, sending them both tumbling to the ground.

"Ah! Mad Jew, mad Jew!" He shouted, trying to avoid Kyle's flailing fists. "Oh my god, I'm going to get fag rabies!"

Kenny looked down at the box of sweets in his lap then over at his friends. It was a tough choice; Food or a chance to feel up Kyle. He finally shrugged and set the box to the side. He could eat it later, this was the chance of a lifetime.

He pulled off his gloves and rubbed his hands together in anticipation of what was about to come, and then leaned forward, grabbing Kyle by the back of his sweater and yanking him to his feet.

"I'm gonna kill him, I swear I'm gonna kill him!" He bellowed, trying to fight off Kenny. But Kenny was stronger than he looked, and was able to tackle Kyle to the ground and hold him down by straddling his lap and pinning his arms above his head.

"Let me up! That malicious bastard is dead! Dead!" He protested, struggling and wiggling around.

"Holy _shit_, yes!" Kenny cheered him on, clearly enjoying himself much more than he should.

Cartman pushed himself up and brushed off his clothes. "Goddamn Jew." He sputtered, kicking Kyle hard in the side and making him yelp in pain.

"Cartman, you asshole!" Kenny shouted, pulling Kyle up as he stood and enclosing him from behind so he couldn't attack again. "I'm holding him down so he wont hurt you, not so you can't beat the crap out of him!" He had taken hold of both Kyle's hands and crossed them against his chest, much like an invisible straight jacket.

"Fuck you, Kenny." He stated simply, his eyes still burning into Kyle's. "I don't care how you do it, just get Stan to start talking to you again. Kick his ass, kiss his ass, I don't give a flying fuck. But, you will _not_ ruin my chance with Wendy, Goddamnit, or so help me I will kill you, Kyle!"

"I'm not afraid of you!"

"Ah, son of a bitch! I-" His anger evaporated suddenly as Wendy's face came to mind. "Kyle, please. You want your best friend back, and I want Wendy. I would do anything for her, and I know you would do the same for Stan. Don't give up on him just so I'll lose her. It's not worth it, because if it was, I would have given up on her so you would lose Stan."

"I already lost him!" Kyle reminded him. "And who's fault was that, huh Cartman? Yours!"

"Stan needs you, Kyle." He went on, still sincere. "Just like I knew he would totally ditch you, I know he doesn't want it this way. He just needs to know you don't hate him."

"Hate him for what?"

"For having a boner for you."

Kyle lunged at him again, ready to throw more punches, but was immediately drawn back against Kenny. "You are full of such crap!"

"For the last time, I'm telling the truth!"

"Just fuck off." Kenny ordered, finally getting pissed off himself.

"Fine! if that's how you want it, then screw you guys, I'm going home!" He took a few steps before closing his eyes and pausing briefly at the image flashing across his mind. "Oh God, no. Kyle," He turned. "Just don't… go look for him right now."

"Why not?"

Cartman winced, placing a hand to his forehead. "Because you wont like what you find."

"God damnit, Cartman! Just for that, I'm _going_ to go look for him right now!"

"No, don't-"

"_Right_ now!"

"Damnit, _damnit_!" He cursed as Kyle and Kenny slipped away.

"Cartman," Wendy's voice chimed, making him spin around quickly. She looked as if she were about to say something, but was quickly taken by surprise.

"Your eye," She commented. "It's all swollen again." She reached out gently and tested it with her fingertips.

He gave a slight, nervous laugh, trying not to let her notice the way he weakened under her touch. "Yeah, well… "

"Let me guess," She cut him off. "You were cookie slapped again."

He smiled. "They're tough cookies."

She shook her head, trying her best not to laugh. "And Jewish, too."

Now he was caught. "I… but…you see-"

"I know." She agreed. "It was a big ass cookie."

He smiled at her, but it faded out. "Wendy, I… I don't know if I can hold up my end of the deal. You see I-"

"Don't even want to try," She accused, all friendliness now gone.

"No, Wendy, you have it all wrong. I'm trying, but Kyle's an asshole, you see, and he's going to go find Stan, who's making out with Butters."

"What the _hell_ are you talking about?"

"Kyle's about to see something that will totally destroy him." He explained. "I can feel it now, Wendy. Kyle has a boner for Stan, too."

"God, Cartman!"

"It's true! Just listen to me!" He yelled. "Something bad is going to happen."

"You seriously need to rethink your priorities." She stated. " A deal is a deal. If you can't fix what you've made a mess of, then my end of the deal is off, too. And I swear, you'd better cut this psychic bullshit, Cartman! It's not funny anymore."

"But, Wendy I-" He lowered his voice dramatically as she walked away. "I love you." He admitted on a breath. His eyes searched the ground solemnly before lighting up again, and with a snap of his fingers, voiced his thoughts.

"Butters."

* * *

"Oh my god, what the hell are you doing?"

"I'm gonna throw the basketball again."

"You're holding it all wrong. Maybe that's why you sucked so bad yesterday."

"Gee, I-I didn't even know there was a wrong way."

"Of course there's a wrong way."

Stan stepped up to Butters and readjusted the inexperienced boys hold on the basketball he clutched tightly.

"First, you've got to relax your grip, it's not going to run away, for Christ's sake."

"Oh, l-like this?"

"Yeah, that's good." Stan decided before slipping his hand beneath his students and moving it downward. "Now hold it here, and-" he readjusted the other hand. "Here. Perfect. Now when you throw it, push it off with force from your elbows, not your wrists. And aim-" He pressed the side of his face against Butters and peered at the basket. "Aim right there." He pointed.

"W-well, alright then, here goes nothin'."

Stan took a few steps back, allowing his friend space and watched the ball as it flew through the air and landed directly into the basket.

"Oh boy!" Butters whooped, bouncing around like the child he was inside. "Did yah see that, Stan? Huh, did yah?"

"Yeah," He agreed with a small laugh. "That was awesome, dude."

Butters gushed at the compliment. No one ever complimented him as much as Stan had. He always had something nice to say. He always knew how to make people feel wanted. It was just in his nature. And that's the thing Butters loved most of all about him.

He hadn't even noticed he had been rubbing his knuckles together -again- until he felt Stan grab his hands and hold them still.

"Do me a huge favor," He said, still holding tight and gazing into Butters very soul with those eyes that made him melt the most. "Stop doing that with your hands. It shows you're insecure, and you have nothing to be insecure about."

"That's an a-awful nice thing to say, S-Stan, but-"

"No," He repeated. "I know I gave you kind of a hard time before, but I've learned something today. A friend isn't just someone who's cool. And it's not just someone you like to hang out with. It's someone you care about, and who cares about you. It's someone who can laugh with you and cry with you. You may not think it, but you really came through for me. Losing my best friend… this is the hardest thing that's ever happened to me, and you know something? You're the only one who's been here for me, to make sure I was alright. You were ready to cry with me, and that makes a true friend."

Butters was smiling now, his stormy colored eyes looking brighter somehow. He was going to have to find a way to thank Eric for showing him that he was gay. Had it not been for that, this moment may not have existed. Not wanting to miss the moment and without a second thought, he leaned forward and locked his lips with Stan's.

Neither noticed Kyle and Kenny, frozen at the end of the blacktop, eyes wide, jaws dropped, and a broken heart for each.

* * *

_-BratChild3 (Lisha)_


	13. Twinkies

**Authors Note: **Heh- this chapter is always fun. Enjoy. :)

* * *

**Chapter 13- Twinkies.**

"How could he be such an asshole? Basketball was _our _game. _We _always played it together, and he was doing it behind my back with _Butters?" _Kyle's voice was saturated in disbelief. "Dude, that sounded so gay." He insulted himself.

He was perched at the edge of his bed, Kenny sprawled upon the mattress. The blondes hood had fallen down, and for once he didn't even notice. Clear blue eyes focused heavenward, blinking back the stinging sensation of forming tears every few seconds. It was an entirely new sensation for him. He wasn't quite sure what it was, but it made his stomach ache horribly. And it sucked ass. Seeing two incredibly orgasmic friends kiss should have gotten him sprung. Instead, this is what he got.

Kyle blinked away his own tears before continuing. "Why does it hurt so much?"

_I don't know,_ Kenny thought, but offered no response. He clutched his stomach, squeezing his eyes closed against the pain. It was only Butters, for Christ's sake. But, maybe that wasn't it. Why automatically assume it was because of Butters? After all, it had been Stan that first fired-up his sexual interest in the same gender. The more he thought on it, the more that theory seemed like crap. The dull ache in his heart had nothing to do with Stan. It was all Butters. He felt violated , somehow, that the innocent blonde he had been flirting with -and thought had been flirting back- was hot for someone else.

"This is such bullshit!" He exploded suddenly, making Kyle jump. He sat up, flipped his hood back on and pulled the drawstrings tight. "We're not a couple of teenage girls, Kyle, and we can't let them make us act like we are. Who fucking cares if they're pink wearing, lisp speaking, flower skipping rainbow lovers?"

"Oh, look who's talking, Kenny! You're the one who's always trying to screw dudes!"

"I'm not gay, I'm just genderly tolerant." He retorted.

"There's a nice excuse." Kyle rolled his eyes.

Kenny shot him a look. "There's just something I don't understand," he continued. "What is Stan doing sucking Butters lips off when he obviously wants to bone _you_."

"He does not!"

Kenny glared. "Maybe we _should _test him."

"What for?"

"To find out if it's true. I actually believe Cartman on this one."

"You're just saying that because you want Butters all to yourself. What happened, did the player accidentally fall in love with one of his toys?"

"Fuck you!" He hollered in his muffled voice.

"You wish!"

"Yes, I do! But that isn't the point!" He sighed and buried his face in his hands, trying to calm his nerves before removing them again. "We'll go to Stan's house tonight. That way, we can figure out what's _really _going on with him."

"What are we going to do, hold him down and interrogate him?" Sarcasm dripped poisonously.

"Nuh uh." Kenny denied, eyeing a blue shirt lain across Kyle's pillow. "Holding him down _would_ make me pop a tent, though." He removed the sweater from its comfy spot to inspect it closer. "You still have his shirt?"

Kyle snatched it away and threw it to the ground, completing his behavior by crossing his arms.

Kenny blinked at the sudden and violent act. "Damn, Kyle. You're really pissed off, aren't you?"

"I hate him." He insisted.

Kenny snickered at the childishness. "No you don't."

"Yes, I do. I _do _hate him!"

"Keep telling yourself that." Kenny slid off the bed and made his way to Kyle's door. "We'll meet outside his bedroom window at ten 'o clock tonight."

"Kenny,"

He paused half way out the door. "Yeah?"

"We're in my room." He stated simply, to which Kenny stared blankly. "With the door closed." More staring evolved. "And you didn't make a pass at me."

Kenny looked up in consideration. "Oh, yeah."

"I think that's the first time in a whole year." Kyle observed. "You really _do _like Butters, don't you?"

Kenny's eyes squinted with a smile. "Jealous?"

"No." Kyle answered sincerely.

The blonde nodded. "Keep telling yourself that, too." He clicked the door closed before Kyle could retort.

The Jew sighed, letting his eyes fall victim to the abandon piece of clothing on the floor. His hand rubbed the top of his opposite arm in vague attempt to keep from picking it up, but it didn't work. His fingers tingled with the urge to feel it's softness until he obliged. The fabric was smooth and cool against his nose as he closed his eyes and breathed in deep. His eyes opened reluctantly with a soft frown. It didn't even smell like Stan anymore.

With the new pain in his heart ever present, he sunk onto his side on his bed and clutched the baby blue shirt to his chest, slipping slowly into sleep, just as he had every night since the day he wore it home.

----------------------------

"Hello?"

"Wendy,"

"Stop calling me, Cartman." She clicked the phone off without another word, hoping he would get the hint this time. It rang again, which she promptly ignored. As she sailed passed the front door and up the stairs, she paused at the sound of the doorbell.

"Damnit!" She cursed, stopping to open it regardless.

Stan stood at the other end, eyes cast downward as he blinked back tears.

"I- didn't know where else to go." He apologized.

Her heart broke at the sight, making her instinctively pull him into a cuddle. "It's okay," She assured, allowing him a moment to mewl before pulling back. Her hands ran the length of his arms and locked with his. "What happened?"

"Your phones ringing." He sniffled.

"Ignore it."

"But-"

"It deserves to be ignored." She cut-in, her voice staying soft. "I'm worried about you. Are _you_ okay?"

"Me and Kyle aren't friends anymore." He blurted.

She nodded and brushed a strand of inky hair away from his eyes. "It was kind of hard to miss that scene in the cafeteria." She teased lightly, gaining a small, sorrowful laugh between his slow tears. "Is it because of what Cartman's been saying?"

His eyelids crushed closed painfully.

"You can tell me." She consoled.

The tears were streaming down his face, though he didn't seem to be crying. "It's because… what he's been saying…is… it's true." He ripped his hands out of hers and began bawling into his palms. "I'm in love with Kyle!"

At first she was alarmed at the sudden confession, but soon placed an arm around his waist and led him up the stairs to her room. Confidentiality was obviously important for this particular conversation, and she couldn't have her parents bursting in on them, or worse, that annoying ringing telephone in the background.

"You're just confused because Cartman's been filing your head with crap." She assured after the door was closed and she had sunk beside him on her bed. His sobs had quieted, and was now back to tears steaming out with every blink. "You love Kyle, but you're not _in _love with him."

He shook his head vigorously, even as she went on.

"It's just a trick of the mind, Stan. Of course you're going to think about all those things when you see Kyle, because Cartman keeps saying it."

"No," He answered calmly, using the wrist of his sleeve to swipe away tears, although more quickly took their place. "Butters kissed me today."

She couldn't hide her bewilderment that time, and her expression was almost enough to make him smile. _Almost. _

"I didn't want him to or anything, he just did it. But when he did, all I could think was 'He isn't Kyle'. I felt like I was cheating on him or something."

Her mouth had been open to protest, but now closed, speechless.

Stan smiled at her, sad and lost through the liquid pain spilling over his cheeks. "You don't think about a "friend" when someone kisses you. You think about… the person you _want _to be kissing."

"_Do _you want to kiss him?"

He scratched his head thoughtfully, eyes focused on his knees. "I want to do a lot more than that." He smiled weakly, and suddenly dissolved into another round of tears.

---------------------

Cartman slammed his phone down after the eleventh ring. Obviously, the ho wasn't about to answer any time soon.

"What a bitch!" He thundered, pausing to scratch his chin as he pondered. "Her nerve is unsettling, yet strangely arousing."

He slid off the couch and waddled into the kitchen, scanning the cupboards for something suitable to the liking of one gullible child. Once satisfied with the selection, and tucking it carefully away in his coat pocket, he set out to find what he seeked. As luck would have it, or maybe he just wasn't a complete dumb shit like every other asshole in South Park, he found Butters exactly where he figured he would be; Stan's house.

He didn't seem to be going inside, but rather conversing with someone at the door, which Cartman found a little odd. He waited at the end of the sidewalk for the blonde as he turned from the door and walked solemnly down the walk way.

"Butters," He pounced, gaining the said boys attention.

"Oh… you scared me." He stated simply.

"Where's Stan?"

"He's not home right now. I-I can't find him anywhere."

"He's hiding from you because you kissed him, you stupid fuck."

Butters looked down, rubbing his knuckles shamefully. "How the heck do ya know about that?"

"I'm psychic, Butters, I just- Jesus Christ." He pinched the bridge of his nose, completely exasperated. "He's going to forgive you."

Butters blinked. "Huh?"

"He's going to fucking forgive you, you fucking asshole!" Cartman barked. "God damnit, you're all a bunch of ass ramming pussies!"

The more innocent of the two stared back with wide-eyes. "Gee, Eric, I-I don't even know what the heck I did."

"You were born," He supplied before recomposing himself and grabbing the object his hate was directed at by the shoulder. "Come on. You're going to break up with Stan."

Butters allowed himself to be dragged down the sidewalk a few steps before the meaning of his words sunk in. His eyebrows furrowed as he yanked himself out of the fierce grasp. Cartman turned back to command him. "Come on, Butters!"

He crossed his arms, pouting openly. "I don't wanna."

"Butters, come on, God damnit!" He sighed angrily, gaining control over his screaming voice before going on. "You've got to do this, or else him and Kyle will never ram each other."

"I don't want 'em to." Butters insisted. "I love Stan. Now that Kyle's outta the way, I've got a real chance with him. I-I won't let you ruin it for me."

"He's… in… love... with... Kyle." Cartman explained, slow and evenly.

"No he aint." Butters shook his head in denial. "Why are you doin' this ta me? Huh, Eric? You're the one who showed me I was gay in the first place."

"You're not gay anymore, Butters, now stop being a whinny little cock sucker, and lets go!"

"Yeah I am." He attested, his shoes practically glued to the cement as Cartman tried to pull him away and finally stopped.

"Maybe I could interest you in," He slowly pulled his recently stored insurance from his pocket. "A Twinkie?"

"Oh boy!" Butters cheered, reaching out to yank the dessert away.

Cartman pulled it back, shaking a disciplining finger at the boy. "You have to break up with Stan first."

"I don't _wanna!"_

"Fine, Butters! That's just fine!" Cartman promised. "I can get him and that fucking Jew tonguing each other before you can snap your god damn fingers and I can do it without your pussy help!" With this new threat, he stormed away.

Butters stared after him with a frown, then glanced down at his hand. He rubbed his thumb and middle finger together in an awkward snapping motion, accomplishing nothing but a dull flicking sound.

"Oh, hamburgers." He cursed.

--------------------------------

The moon hung bright and clear above the surrounding trees, creating a decent amount of silvery light to cascade upon the boy waiting beneath the window of his best friend. He yawned deeply and rubbed at his eyes, all the while cursing Kenny in his mind. He had slept away the afternoon, waking short of ten minutes before the time given to meet outside Stan's window. Without a second to spare, the shirt he had been snuggling was pulled over his head on his way out the door. He didn't even get the chance to grab something to eat, though his stomach protested loudly at not being fed dinner. And now here he was, twelve minutes after ten and Kenny hadn't even gotten there yet, or so he thought. There _was _a ladder propped against the side of the house, something Kyle noted wasn't normally there.

What was their mission, anyway? How exactly was this going to help anything? Kenny must have a plan in mind, but whether or not that plan was crap or gold was yet to be unveiled. Hopefully it wasn't as stupid as Cartman's suggestions.

"Hold him down and moan in his ear." Kyle mimicked with a scoff. "He'd probably just think I'm a sick, twisted fuck." He kicked at the ground, tightening his grip on the wrists of Stan's sweater. The thought of Stan kissing Butters but freaking out if his _best friend _touched him pissed Kyle off royally, and he didn't know why.

The thought that plagued him even more than that was, what if Stan _did _like it if he held him down? What if he… started moaning back.

Kyle shivered violently, blaming the cool breeze that didn't exist. His eyes shot wide at the sound of a snapping twig, only to narrow dangerously when he recognized the figure approaching.

"Hey, Kyle." Kenny waved.

"You asshole."

"What'd I do?"

"You told me Ten 'o clock." Kyle reminded him.

"Dad brought home food." Kenny explained, flashing a small bit of what had once been a sandwich before stuffing it into his mouth.

"I didn't even _get _dinner because I didn't want to make _you _wait for me!"

"Why didn't you eat earlier, too busy humping Stan's shirt? Which, by the way, looks sextacular on you."

"I pulled it on as I ran out the door," He defended his pride. "And I was sleeping."

Kenny shrugged. "You snooze, you loose, Dude." He looked up at Stan's window. "Forget about dinner, desserts waiting."

Kyle rolled his eyes heavenward. "What are we suppose to be doing anyway?"

Kenny scanned around. "You're going to kiss him. Is there any rocks around here?"

"What?"

"Rocks." Kenny repeated slowly. "You know, those things you use to-"

"I know what a god damn rock is!" Kyle screamed, then immediately covered his mouth and glanced at the dark window overhead.

"Nice going, Juliet. You'd better shut the fuck up before you wake up Romeo's parents!" Kenny pointed darkly at the house.

"What do you mean, I'm going to kiss him?" Kyle demanded on a whisper.

"What part of that don't you understand?" Kenny raised an eyebrow. "I don't mind showing you exactly what a kiss is, if that's what you're confused about."

Kyle took a decent sized step back. "I know how to kiss. But why do I have to kiss Stan?"

"You're too smart to be this damn stupid." His perverted counterpart insulted as he picked up a rock. "Now throw this at the window." He pointed upward.

"I don't wanna do this!"

"God, Kyle, you know how that turns me on-"

"Kenny-"

"That pouting-"

"No-"

"Drives me _crazy." _

"_Fine! _Lets just get this over with. It's not like Stan can hate me more than he already does." He ripped the rock from Kenny's hand and aimed it at the window determinedly before lowering it. "I can't… do it this way." he admitted.

"God damn, Kyle."

"Really," He sighed. "Climb up and tell him I'm here."

"What a pussy thing to do."

"Fine, then go through his window, unlock the front door for me and then stand guard."

"No."

"Come on, Kenny, it's easy."

"Why do I always have to do the stupid shit?"

"Because you're the blonde." Kyle stated matter-of-factly. "Plus, you have slim hips."

Kenny looked down at his pants, then smiled brightly. "You like that, huh?"

"Goddamnit, Kenny, would you just do it?"

He looked reluctantly to the window and back again. "Nuh uh."

"Why!" He protested loudly, to which Kenny covered his ears in mocked tease.

"What do I get out of this?" He asked. "You get to fuck the hottest guy in the whole world while I get hauled off to jail for breaking and entering? Fuck that shit."

"I'm not going to-"

"Fuck him." Kenny finished with a roll of his eyes, then coughed into his hand, which sounded suspiciously like "Bullshit."

"I'm not!"

"Than you're a stupid, dumb shit!" He shouted back. "Stan blows off the top of the fuckability chart! God damn, how the hell can you crawl into his bedroom to find out if he's really hot for you, and _not _do a goddamn thing about it? If he were getting hard over _me_, I would have cornered him in the gym showers and found out _exactly _how hot I could make him weeks ago! And then I would do it over and over and over and-"

"Alright!" Kyle echoed. "Jesus Christ, Kenny. If you're this much of a horny bastard now, I'm gonna hate to see you when you're sixteen."

"If I don't get some action by then, I'll fucking explode and won't be around to get horny anymore!"

"I just don't want to be alone on this, alright?"

"We're suppose to both go in together."

"I don't want you watching us!"

Kenny smirked beneath his hood. "So, you _are _going to-"

"Stop it, Kenny!"

Kenny sighed, finally giving in. "Okay, Kyle. I'll do this because I know you're afraid of what might happen tonight. You're justified to be a little bit of a dick." He consoled, patting his friend on the shoulder. "I'll sneak through and let you in the door." He got no farther than a step toward his destination when Kyle placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"Wait, I just thought of something," Kyle mused. "What if he has Butters up there?"

"So, what if he does?"

Kyle scoffed. "What if they're making out or something?"

Kenny considered this for only a short time. If Butters _was _up there, he'd have no choice but to keep the gray-eyed sex god occupied. "Oh, _Jesus_, I hope so."

"Kenny-" Kyle started angrily, and was shoved out of the way.

"Get the hell out of my way, I want to see." He climbed the ladder at record speed, and placed his hands and nose to the platted glass to peer inside. "Oh, crap." He whispered. "Making out is the least of your worries. You should see the hot shit that's really going on-"

"What!" Kyle wailed.

Kenny rolled his eyes. "He's sleeping. _Alone." _

"Ass master." Kyle hissed.

"If I don't come out in ten minutes," Kenny warned, quietly sliding open Stan's window before peering down at his green hatted friend. "Then Stan was just too damn hot and _I_ decided to fuck him instead."

"Oh, you'd better be kidding!" Kyle growled. "Kenny?" He asked as the boy disappeared inside the room. "Kenny!"

The low-class boy chuckled to himself as he closed the window to drown out Kyle's shouts. He was so jealous and probably didn't even realize it. But, one look at Stan was all the reason anyone needed to understand why. Kenny stared down at his sleeping friend, letting his eyes cost over his body.

"Kyle's a lucky Bastard," He breathed, than smiled to himself as a mental picture of Butters flashed across his mind. "Not as lucky as I'm going to be."

He pulled himself away from the bed and to the door, resisting the urge to give Stan another hickey. He didn't even bother to sneak passed the closed bedroom doors of the rest of the Marsh family as he passed them in the hall and treaded down the stairs to unlock the door for Kyle.

"What the hell takes so damn long to unlock a fucking door?" The Jew demanded on a whisper.

"Relax, I didn't touch your boyfriend." Kenny promised, earning himself an angry grunt from Kyle. "He's still asleep, so when you get up there just wake him up and tongue him before he realizes what's happening."

"I'm _not _using my tongue!"

"You have to, that's what will really get his juices flowing." Kenny envisioned. "Have fun. If anything goes wrong, I'll be down here eating."

"You just ate." Kyle reminded him.

Kenny shrugged. "Yeah, but I'm poor. I eat free food whenever I can. Besides, if you get to go to Stan's room for dessert, than I get to go to Stan's kitchen for dessert."

Kyle sighed heavily, glancing away from his orange clad friend to the stairs. "Here goes nothing."

He had been to Stan's house more times than he could count, but the hallway to his room had never seemed so long. He could feel his heartbeat pulsating throughout his body, his breath thundering in his ears with each step he took. Stan always slept with his door closed, but apparently Kenny had left it wide open for his convenience. He lingered in the doorway, staring at the dark figure sound asleep in bed until his eyes adjusted to the dark room. He could make out Stan's deep, even breathing and messy dark hair. With another deep breath to instill composure, Kyle crept into the room, closing the door softly behind him for good measure.

Every step he took sounded like a god damn racket to his own ears, even though in reality they fell silent on the plush carpeting. He stopped only when he lightly bumped against the side of the mattress, freezing stone still as he looked down upon his soul mate. An almost compassionate smile curved Kyle's mouth until his eyes fell victim to Stan's lips. His eyes fluttered closed at the remembrance of the way his kisses tasted. He swallowed hard, reaching a slow hand out to shake his friend on the shoulder. His fingers were a mere inch away when he stopped, retracting his hand close to his own body. A scowl crossed his face, angry at his own weakness and reached his hand out determinedly, only to yank it away again the second he felt the softness of Stan's clothing. With a defeated sigh, he sunk carefully onto the edge of the bed, his back toward the dark-haired boy.

"Stan," He spoke softly, needing to get this out but not wanting to wake the sleeping boy. "I… came here to test you. Cartman says-" He paused to twist his fingers before going on. "He says you have a boner for me. Kenny thought it would be a good idea if I found out for sure. But I can't."

He closed his eyes, reliving the scene of Butters and Stan joined at the lips.

It seemed like it hurt more each time, like the reality hit deeper. "I saw you with Butters today." He admitted. He trembled slightly, although he was unsure why. "Why didn't you tell me? Damnit, Stan, I'm suppose to be your best friend. You're suppose to be able to tell me anything."

Tears of anger glassed his eyes, but refused to fall. He didn't know what he was so angry at. Was it the fact that his so-called "best friend" didn't trust him? Somehow he didn't think so.

"Dude, I don't care if you're gay, I care that you hid it from me. You should know that… that I'll love you no matter what. We've been through everything together, and I can't even imagine going through the rest of my life without you. It just sucks ass that you don't think you can trust me."

He ran his hands down his face in frustration, and closed his eyes as he tried to get a grip.

"_K- yle…"_

He jerked slightly at the small sound and turned to look at the sleeping youth. Was he dreaming something?

Kyle shifted on the bed, edging closer and leaning over to get a better look at Stan's expression in the dark. Yes, he was still sleeping.

"Stan?" He breathed, suddenly feeling like he was suffocating. "Can you hear me?"

Stan took in a deep breath and stirred. Obviously he wasn't awake… but he could hear what was being said.

Maybe Kyle _should_ test him out. Maybe it was possible that Stan really _did _have a thing for him. He swallowed back his sudden hopefulness and leaned closer, balancing his weight by resting his forearm and elbow on the side of Stan opposite of where he sat.

"Stan?" He whispered, again receiving the same response. He moved closer, placing his lips next to Stan's ear. "Do you want me to kiss you again? Do you want to feel my tongue caressing your body, down your neck, and your chest and your stomach? Does my voice really turn you on? I wanna know if I make you hot. Come on, Stan, show me. Let me see how much you want it. Get nice and hard for me."

Stan's breathing increased steadily as Kyle continued to speak, going more in depth until remembering Cartman's spiteful words; _Moan into his ear or some stupid shit like that._

Stupid, maybe, but worth a shot. Apparently his voice was doing _something, _But it may very well be the fact that something's disturbing Stan's peaceful slumber.

"You want me to touch you, Stan? You want me to feel you get hot and hard?" He closed his eyes, proceeding to let out soft, deep moans. Tears began to leak out his eyes as the sound of Stan's rapid breathing quickened, coming out in whimpered moans that matched his own.

"Damnit, Stan, you like it don't you? Don't you!" Kyle's anger increased along with tears. "You want me, don't you? Don't you , you fucking bastard!"

His teary eyes caught sight of something in Stan's curled hand. He reached out, gently pulling out whatever it was he clutched so tightly. Kyle felt his heart clench up when he recognized the picture of the play.

He choked out a sob, collapsing onto his friend and bawling into his shoulder.

Cartman was right. Cartman… knew. Somehow in all this, the fat bastard was telling the truth, whether or not he knew it himself was a different matter entirely. Stan wanted him, there was no hiding it. Kyle could feel his breath, hot and heavy against his skin, heard his moans, felt his excitement pressing into his thigh, strong and full. And he could feel… his own.

His eyes snapped open, tears coming to a violent halt as he pulled back. His jaw dropped as he stared back into Stan's reflective blue eyes, breathing coming out in gasping pants.

"Kyle…?"

And he stumbled out of the bed, scrambling to his feet and hightailing it out of the room faster than he imagined possible. He didn't stop, and he didn't look back, he couldn't face Stan… he couldn't because…

He was hard, too.

* * *

_-BratChild3 (Lisha)_


	14. Tastes Like Kenny

**Authors Note: **Thank you _so _very much for the reviews. -Cartman Voice- I love you Guhs.

* * *

**Chapter 14- Tastes Like Kenny.**

There was silence throughout the Broflovski residence. Darkness had settled over the home long ago, enveloping the sleeping family in the full comfort of night. Appearances were deceiving, as was the case at the moment. Kyle didn't sleep, wasn't wrapped in comfort at all. Tremors wrecked his lanky body as he sat on his bed with his blanket strewn over his head, unaware his best friend had done the exact same thing only one week ago.

"Are you going to tell me what happened, or are you just going to hide under your blanket all night long?"

"Go away, Kenny."

He frowned at the haunted sounding voice, edging closer to his obviously rattled friend. "C'mon. It can't be that bad."

Kyle pulled the light yellow blanket closer around himself, trying to shake off the feeling of exposure. His orange hooded friend could only smile at the gesture.

"He came all over you, right?"

"Kenny- _God!_"

"We haven't even screwed yet, and you're already calling me a God?" He teased. "So, am I right about our fuckalicious friend?"

"_Leave me alone."_ He emphasized each word, slow and clear.

"You're being a pussy."

"I am _not_ a pussy! God damnit, Kenny, I'm sick and tired of defending myself to you! If I wanted to be insulted I would hang out with Cartman!"

Kenny shook his head in exasperation, "If you're not a pussy, come out from under there. You aren't eight years old anymore." Silence greeted him, adding fuel to fire. "Alright, Kyle. If you wont come out, I'm coming in."

He wasted no time in grasping the hem of the blanket and yanking it up and over his own head. This, of course, didn't set right with Kyle at all.

"Get the hell out of here, you bastard!"

"No, it's cozy." Came the logical retort.

His debate won him a prompt and violent shove in the chest. His fingers instinctively grasped the front of Kyle's - or rather Stan's - shirt to keep from toppling backward. Instead, he brought the Jew down with him, where they both hit the carpeted floor in a tangle of blanket. Kyle found himself flat on his back, Kenny lain atop him with eyes dancing in excitement.

"I love it most in this position." He cooed.

"You die, Kenny! You die and go to hell!"

He frowned at the murderous words and sat up, allowing Kyle to do the same. He could see green eyes glowing with danger through the darkness, hateful and cold with an underlying hint of fear. All jokes aside, he reached a hand out and settled it on his friends shoulder.

"Kyle, what happened in Stan's room?"

Hesitation, a breath of fear and then, "I don't know."

"You have to know, you were there."

Kyle didn't protest when Kenny caught sight of the picture he clutched, nor did he try to prevent him from pulling it away for inspection.

"Stan," He stalled as the name left his lips, amazed at the emotions it stirred up. "…was holding it."

Kenny peered at him over the top of the photograph, nodding in understanding before surrendering it again. "You know you can talk to me about anything. I may be a dirty little bastard, but I love you, Kyle. I love all of you, and I would do anything for you guys."

"I know," His voice held a quiver. He leaned his back against the side of his bed, looking up as a sigh escaped his lungs. "I wanted to wake him up. I was going to kiss him like you told me to. But I couldn't do it. I started talking to him instead. I had to… I had to get it out. He breathed out my name in his sleep and I-" He paused, embarrassment creeping over. "I took Cartman's advice."

Kenny thought a moment, his eyes widening as realization sunk in. "You held him down and _moaned_ in his ear?"

"Shh!" Kyle scolded harshly, glancing to his door to check for light that would indicate they had woken anyone. "I didn't hold him down, he was sleeping. I just leaned over and… started… talking first."

"Talking?"

"Talking _dirty_."

Kenny's eyebrows shot up with interest. "What did you say, exactly?"

He was honored with a glare. "None of your god damn business."

"Okay, okay." He held his hands up in surrender. "And then you moaned in his ear?"

"… Yeah."

Kenny shifted uncomfortably, trying hard to keep the appealing image out of his head. "And did he do anything?"

The redhead nodded shamefully, his eyes glued to the blanket lying between them. "He started," He swallowed hard, avoiding eyes contact by fidgeting with the sleeve of his shirt. "… He started moaning back."

"Damn," Kenny blinked, shifted again. "Oh, _damn_ that's hot."

Kyle wasn't put off by the remark at all, being too distraught to care. "That's not all."

His company paused. "It's not?"

He shook his head. "He was hard, Kenny." He squeezed his eyes closed before finishing his confession. "And I was, too."

Kenny's eyes were now practically bulging out of his head. He casually flipped a corner of Kyle's blanket over his lap for good measure and swallowed dryly. "So, uh … So, Stan _is _hot for you. I knew it! I could smell his sexual frustration a mile away!" He proceeded at Kyle's glower. "… And you're saying you're hot for him, too?"

"No!" Kyle stood abruptly, unconsciously falling into a pace. "I mean… I _don't_ know. I never really thought about it before." He paused, his eyes held captive by a spot on the carpet. "I have had some thoughts about him lately. Weird thoughts."

"Like what?"

He tugged at the material of the shirt he wore. "Like this," He admitted, smiling down at it sorrowfully. "I never gave it back because I like wearing it. And it's not just the fact that he said it looks good on me, it's because it belongs to Stan. When I wear it, I'm surrounded by him and I … _like _that feeling."

"You like feeling close to him, even when he isn't there." Kenny filled in.

Kyle's expression brightened. "Yeah."

"Any other 'weird' thoughts?"

He bit his lower lip, closely examining his darkened ceiling for answers. "I couldn't stop thinking about kissing him after we were in _Romeo and Juliet. _It felt so real, you know? It felt so right."

"Maybe it _was _right." Kenny theorized. "The two of you have always been close. Maybe it's possible you fell in love with each other somewhere along the line, regardless that you aren't normally attracted to dudes. A person is a person, and love knows no boundaries. Is it so crazy to think that you love Stan for who he is and not what he has in his pants?"

Kyle's arms wrapped around his own waist, trying to ward of the fear wavering over him. Kenny was making too much sense. It all sounded so logical, so simple. "But I was… h-hard."

A broad smile slashed across the blue eyed blonde. "When you're in love with someone, naturally you're going to want to screw them senseless. It's a gift, Kyle, embrace it." He clutched the air before him and squeezed his fists tight to emphasize his words.

"But I'm not gay. I'm not even metrosexual."

Kenny waved it off and rolled his eyes. "Silly Jew, labels are for Christians. Don't worry about whether or not it makes you 'gay'. All it makes you is human."

"I don't know, Kenny," He wasn't convinced. "Maybe I was just caught up in the moment. You know how it is."

Kenny checked the status of his covered lap and nodded. "I sure do." He stood from the floor and moved to stand directly in front of the skeptic. "Lets test you."

"Oh, Jesus Christ, not again."

"Do you want to find out or not?" Kenny snapped.

Kyle sighed. "God damnit."

"I take that as a yes," Kenny cheered. "I want you to close your eyes."

"No way."

"Why the hell not, don't you trust me?"

"No."

Kenny feigned a hurt look and clutched at his chest. "You're breaking my heart."

Kyle folded his arms sternly. "I'm sorry, but any plan that involves you and me in a closed room with my eyes shut is setting me up for nothing but trouble, and giving you full rights to take advantage of that."

"You read too much." Kenny insulted. "I promise I'm not going to rape you or I would have done it already."

"Gee, _that's _encouraging." The suspicious party dared to ask, "What _are_ you going to do?"

"_You_ are going to use your imagination. Just think of me as a prop."

"What kind of prop?" His curiosity had obviously claimed the upper hand.

"A fill-in for Stan." Kenny declared. "Just close your eyes and let your mind take you away. We can stop anytime you want, just say the word."

"This is such a gay idea." He decided as he closed his eyes.

"It's a brilliant idea." Kenny revised. "First, try and drown out my voice, kind of like when you read a book and you don't even see the words because you're too absorbed in what's happening. Can you do that?"

"I think so."

"Good. Don't open your eyes. Now, picture yourself in Stan's room. It's dark, but there's a dim light illuminating everything with a soft glow. You can smell his scent lingering in the air, and you know by the increasing pound of your heart that he's going to be walking in any moment."

Kyle sucked in a sturdy breath, playing out the scene in his mind. He could envision it all so perfectly; The room, the smell, the familiarity. Stan. All Stan.

"You hear the hinges of his door creek open," Kenny opened Kyle's door for effect. "He pauses when he sees you, but lets the door shut behind him."

He closed the door and walked back to Kyle. "He approaches you and gently places his palm to your cheek." Kenny reached up, acting out his own scene. "His fingers graze your skin as his other arm wraps around your waist and pulls you against him." There was no resistance when Kenny drew Kyle close against his body.

Kenny fought to keep his hormones under control. Being pressed against his Jewish friend was certainly making it easier to play the role of seductive Stan. He let his breath puff onto Kyle's neck, finally permitting his lips quick contact on the sweet scented skin. He squeezed his eyes closed and leaned his forehead against Kyle's cheek, trying to claim control over his senses. The redheads erratic breathing wasn't helping matters any, but Kenny was able to right his position and continue onward.

"You're looking straight into his eyes, and he's gazing back at you lovingly. He-" He paused at the sensation of Kyle's hands sliding up his chest and shoulders to lock around his neck. "He smiles at you and traces his finger over your lips. The feel of your body is making him so hot, Kyle. He wants to kiss you, slow and deep."

A whimper of longing escaped Kyle's throat, encouraging his friends advances.

"His passion clouded eyes close and he leans into you. You can feel his breath against your face just as his lips touch yours."

Kenny closed the space between himself and his daydreaming friend, getting his own shock when Kyle eagerly kissed back.

"Mmm." Kyle purred against Kenny's lips and delved in for a deeper, more passionate taste. His hands pushed off the hood and sifted up through the golden hair.

Kenny went with it, allowing Kyle's almost violently increasing excitement overtake him. It was Kyle's tongue that violated Kenny's mouth, Kyle's hands that began to roam and touch, and it was Kyle's soft moans filling the air of the room.

Kenny's hands shot out behind him, catching the top of the side table his friend had passionately slammed him into. It wasn't until his own moan of pleasure found its way out that Kyle released him abruptly.

Kenny sunk down the table to the ground, his hood now resting on his shoulders and his breath completely gone. "Who… ever," He began through pants. "Said Jew's have no… rhythm," He blew out a long breath. "Have obviously never been frenched by one."

Kyle hung his head in misery. "I lost control."

"That's a good thing." Kenny promised, finding it in himself to stand again. He took in another deep breath and blew it out again, still not completely caught up on oxygen. "Damn, Kyle. That was scrum-didly-umptious."

"Heh, Yeah..." Kyle smiled uneasily and let it die out again, looking back down at his shoes. "But your kisses don't taste right."

Kenny's eyebrows furrowed. "Thanks a lot, asshole. I may be poor, but I brush my goddamn teeth."

"No, don't you get it?" Kyle whined. "I stopped because your kisses don't taste like Stan's. It shattered the illusion that you were him, and I," His voice lowered several notes. "I wanted you to be."

"Woo hoo!" Kenny cheered softly. "The verdicts out, you're hot for Stan!"

"You say that like it's a good thing."

"It is," He assured. "Now you can pick a weekend and bang each other all night long. That would be so lip-smacking, finger licking good. Record it for me."

There was a pause when Kyle opened his mouth to protest the remark, then sighed and shifted the conversation slightly. "I need him to talk to me again before I do anything."

"I'll help you." Kenny slipped a comforting arm around Kyle.

Kyle slapped his hands over his eyes. "Oh, God."

Kenny chuckled and pulled him into a hug. "Don't worry, I've helped you this far, and I'll help you 'til the end. Now, get some sleep tonight, you're going to need your energy tomorrow."

He gave Kyle's ass a playful slap, receiving a nice pelvis thrust from the surprised boy. Kenny flipped his hood back on, laughing as Kyle rubbed his stinging bottom.

"Later, hot ass." He winked before making his departure out the window.

* * *

What was it about telephones that made it so much harder to talk to someone? Some people found it easier than coming face to face, but Wendy found herself wiping her perspirating palms on the thighs of her pants before retrieving her phone. Nervousness wasn't a feeling that was all too familiar to her, and the feeling struck her as a pain in the ass. Maybe it stemmed from the fact that she wouldn't be able to read his expression, making it more difficult to interpret his emotions. Or maybe it was simply the fact that it was _Cartman _she was calling. Whether it was expression reading or Cartman, she clicked the 'Talk' button and carefully punched in the proper numbers.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Mrs. Cartman. This is Wendy Testaburger. May I speak with Eric?"

"Sure you can, just a moment."

Wendy could hear her place a hand over the mouthpiece and then muffled talking.

"Hon? Phone call."

"I can't right now, tell whoever it is to piss off!" Cartman's gruff voice shot back.

"Now, Eric, you said you were going to try and be nicer to your little friends."

"Well, yeah, how else was I going to get you to buy me that sweet new game box?"

"If you don't keep your promise, I'll be forced to take it back to the store."

"But _mom, _I'm trying to get my stuff together so I _can_ go visit one of my asshole friends."

"No phone call, no game box."

"Son of a bitch," His voice grew louder as he accepted the call. "What the hell do you want? I've got shit to take care of and assholes to blackmail."

Wendy squeezed the bottom of her phone with her free hand in apprehension. "Hi, Cartman."

There was a stretch of silence before he presented her with a beautiful greeting. "What the hell are you calling for, hippie?"

The urge to protest the insult was strong, but she was somehow able to keep her voice calm and friendly. "I wanted to hear your voice."

Cartman's impatience all but evaporated at the words. For once he was completely speechless, though still unsure how truthful she was being.

"Nuh uh."

"Yes, I did." She responded. "That, and I wanted to discuss our wager."

The sentence was enough to ignite Cartman's short fuse. "You're such a whore, Wendy. A deal is a deal. I get the assholes Stan and Kyle to hump each other and you have to go out with me."

She smiled on the other end of the line. "Oh, Cartman. I don't want out of the deal, I want you to win."

Cartman's confused frown deepened. "What?"

Wendy sunk onto her couch with a sigh and closed her eyes. She could vividly picture Stan's obvious heart ache when he had confessed his love for Kyle the previous day. It had been all she could think about, and could only hope Cartman could help to mend their broken friendship.

"Stan's a wreck without Kyle. I want to see you succeed in bringing their relationship back together."

"Even at the expense of going out with me?" He sounded puzzled.

"If you're willing to do something as selfless as that just for _me, _then going out with you will be a privilege not an expense."

He blinked. "Nuh uh."

Wendy couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of her throat at his obvious bewilderment. He was such a selfish bastard, and yet so disbelieving anyone could ever truly like him. He was also very good at conforming people to what he wanted them to do. He was certainly the one to go to if you needed help. It broke Wendy's heart to see Stan so miserable, and wanted nothing more than his happiness restored.

"I'm really looking forward to our first date," She used her seductive voice, the one that always used to make Stan turn to putty. "Maybe I'll even let you kiss me. Don't let me down."

Cartman clicked his phone off after the sound of a click and dial tone filled his ears. It took him a moment or maybe two for her works to actually sink in and make complete sense. Not only had she said she _wanted _him to win, she had said she was looking forward to it, and had apparently been thinking about locking lips. All it would take is getting Stan and Kyle to talk again, and that should be easy, considering they always _did _have a boner for each other. Wendy was as good as his.

"Ah, sweet!"

He flew out the door and broke into a run, leisure at best, but still a run. He huffed and puffed his way clear across the neighborhood until he reached the Marsh's door. Luckily, he had just armed himself with the necessary materials to visit his dear friend, Stan, moments before his hippie-angel appeared. When his pounding fist wasn't answered at once, he began verbal assault.

"God damnit, Stan! You'd better open this door right now, asshole, or so help me I will reach my hand through the lock and pull you out by your nuts!" He paused just long enough to suck in a breath. "Do you hear me, you Jew loving, ass ramming, son of a-"

The door swung open, nearly knocking the threatener in the face.

"Jesus Christ, fat ass, what the hell?" Stan demanded.

He looked miserable. Evidence of a sleepless night stained the silk skin beneath his eyes. His expression presented a mix of guilt, torment, and heartache. To complete the look, it was obvious recent tears had been shed. Any normal person would feel compassionate. But Eric Cartman could only scoff.

"God, what a fag."

Stan graced the remark with a glare and attempt at slamming the door, but Cartman caught it with his foot.

"Not so fast, asshole."

"What the hell do you want, Cartman?" Stan shot back.

"Wendy."

"Wendy?"

"Wendy." He confirmed. "You have to stop being such a god damn drama queen and kiss Kyle's ass so I can have Wendy as my bitch."

Stan glowered at the choice of words. "Wendy isn't anyone's bitch, you fat piece of shit. She would have you bringing her the world at the snap of her fingers."

"That's not the point." Cartman neither denied or protested. "Stan, I never gave a shit about anyone before."

"I know." He pointed out seriously.

Cartman's eyes narrowed, but he managed to keep his anger in check. "But I give a shit about Wendy." He turned, walking up and back the short length of the porch. "She makes me feel… _different._ I've got this queasiness in my stomach."

"Gas."

Cartman paused with a death glare. "No, not gas!" His expression softened considerably, although his defenses were now on call. "I'm crazy about her; Her voice, her hair, her smile, her touch just makes me…" He paused on a sigh, looking almost ashamed as he finished. "She makes me want to be a better person."

"You're serious." Stan's statement rung in surprise.

"You're God damn right, I'm serious!" He bellowed. "You've got to help me!"

Stan shoved his chubby friends hand off his shoulder. "You ruined my life, Cartman! I'm not helping you do anything!"

Cartman's eyes narrowed to threatening brown slits. "You're helping me, Stan. We can do this the easy way or we can do it the hard way." He pulled a pair of green boxers out of his coat, holding them up for inspection.

Stan stared on in confusion, his eyes widening slowly in shock. "What the hell are you doing with Kyle's boxers, you sick bastard?"

He shrugged, a smile playing about his lips. "I thought they'd go superbly with the shirt you never gave back."

"Who the hell told you about that?" Stan demanded as he tried to grab the shorts away, but Cartman was quick to pull back.

"Call it intuition, psychic bullshit, or perhaps a little birdie told me. I don't think that's the issue right now, is it?"

"What _is _the issue?" Stan hissed defensively.

"That I was right. You're in love with Kyle."

Stan paled considerably. "You're not going to start that crap again, are you?"

"Why not? It's the truth." Cartman chided. "You see, Stan, the way I see it we can help each other get what we want. I want the hippie, you want the Jew."

"I am not gay!"

"But you love Kyle." Cartman negotiated.

Stan shook his head, but he couldn't shake away the fear evident in his eyes, his posture and his voice. "I don't love him. Not that way."

Cartman's evil smirk widened and he tossed the boxers to Stan, who instinctively caught them immediately stuffed them into his pants. He didn't want to expose them to the public and also wanted to prevent what would be a very awkward conversation with his parents as to why he was carrying around his friends' unmentionables.

"I bet that's making you pretty hot."

Stan's hatred doubled. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Come on. Kyle's boxers down your pants? That's some hot kink right there. I know I'd have a boner if Wendy's panties were down my pants."

Stan shook his head in disbelief, though suddenly very aware of the piece of clothing bunched against his thigh. "You are so fucked up."

"Just admit that you want to hump Kyle."

"No!"

"Okay, Stan, I gave you two chances. Since you wont help me like a good citizen, we're going to have to resort in some old fashioned blackmailing."

"Nice try, fatso, but you don't have anything on me."

"Oh no?" His voice was wickedly unsettling. "What's Kyle gonna think when he finds out you've been crotch crunching his underwear?"

Stan matched the challenge with confidence. "And how's he going to know?"

"I thought you'd never ask." With those words he flashed another of his photographic skills. This one displayed Stan asleep in bed, Kyle's green boxers sticking half-way out his pants, and his shirt tight in Stan's grip.

His deep blue eyes widened in mortification, but he was too shocked to move as Cartman tucked it safely away again.

"You really should start sleeping with your window locked." He advised. "So you see, Stan, you _are _going to help me. All you have to do is kiss and make nice with Kyle. Now that doesn't sound so bad, does it?"

"I _can't _make up with Kyle." Stan looked downward, his voice now soft in defeat.

Cartman shook his head. "Than you leave me no choice. I'm going to have to show this picture to everyone."

"Go ahead and post it on a billboard for all I care!" Stan shouted at his retreating backside. "The only person that matters already fucking knows!"

Cartman froze in his tracks, his expression and voice now equally blank having retained this new information. "What?"

"Kyle knows." Stan's vision blurred with tears. "Everything you predicted came true, and Kyle found out. He snuck into my room last night and-" He broke off on a breath and sniffled before going on. "He's never going to want to talk to me again. I wish you could blackmail me into making everything better, but there's nothing I can do to help you, Cartman. It's over."

Cartman's jaw was slightly slack in disbelief. "No. No, there must be _something _we can do."

"I'm sorry." Stan closed the door to the outside world, leaving Cartman in his tracks.

"But, that means…. I lost the bet." He spoke to himself. "I can't lose the bet. That means Wendy wont go out with me. It means I'm just another selfish jerk she doesn't want to talk to."

It didn't happen very often. Mostly because he really _was _a selfish jerk that didn't care much about anyone. But he wasn't lying when he confessed his feelings for Wendy. She was the one thing Eric Cartman wanted and would never be able to buy. Maybe Kenny was the psychic after all. It was him that predicted his large friend would die alone and miserable. Without Wendy, he really would. This reality crashing all around him, he felt his heart break for the very first time.

He covered his face with his hands, and there in the Marsh's front yard, Eric Cartman began to cry, helplessly and desperately. He never heard the footsteps approaching cautiously, or the voice that called his name. He didn't know she was there at all until she place a hand on his arm. The sensation made him jump back and quickly wipe the tears.

"W-Wendy," He stammered, trying to get control of his emotional voice. "I thought I smelled hippie." He sniffed dramatically and wiped at his nose. "I'm allergic to ho's."

Wendy smiled warmly at him, placing a hand to his cheek and using her thumb to wipe away a droplet that called his bluff. "I heard what you said to Stan. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I was on my way to see him and decided not to interrupt."

"You win." He mumbled.

"What?"

"You won the fucking bet!" He hollered, turning his back to her. "So get out of here, you god damn hippie! You don't need to suck up to me anymore!"

She frowned at his anger, but didn't allow it to put her off. Instead, she stepped in front of him again. "You know what? Screw the bet. I have a confession to make."

Cartman sighed agitatedly and rolled his eyes, but she cut him off before he could pretest.

"No, shut up, and let me say this," She snapped, shocking him silent. "I was going to go out with you whether you won or not. Yes, I did want you to help Stan and Kyle, but I also wanted to know if you would actually try to do something good. And you did." She reached up to tuck a stray piece of hair back into his hat. "You tried to use blackmail to do it, but you still tried, and that means something to me."

Cartman blinked his wide, tear filled eyes. "You… you mean, you'll still go out with me?"

She answered with a smile. That goddamn _smile _that made his bones melt. He shuddered at the feel of her arms snaking around his neck, and allowed his eyes to flutter closed when her lips pressed against his.

With renewed encouragement, she ditched playfulness for passion and let her tongue flirt slow and deep with his. She basked in the tingles that flooded her stomach, pulling away only when oxygen was absolutely necessary.

"You can have as many of those as you want."

Cartman's smile was now completely restored as she leaned in for another quick peck.

"Sweeeet."

* * *

Butters had always liked the Marsh family. Sharon was especially nice, in his humble opinion, and was relived when she was the one to answer the door for him. He didn't think Stan would be particularly pleased to see him, and would have probably slammed the door in his face. But Sharon invited him in with a warm greeting and soothing smile, permitting him unauthorized entrance to Stan's room, saying he had been "gloomy" lately and she was glad someone had come to "lift his spirits".

Stan's door was closed when he approached, and it took a few moments of contemplating whether to knock or barge in before making a decision; He would knock, Stan would probably appreciate respected privacy.

"Go away." Came the immediate response when he put his plan into action.

Butters heart sank at Stan's harsh words. He didn't even sound like himself. The cold words were weary and half-hearted.

"Stan?" He asked, and slowly pushed the door open. "I-It's me, Butters."

"I know. I saw you coming." He was standing by his window, watching the weather unfold outside. There was a slow breeze that picked up every so often, and fluffy gray clouds floating by. It smelled like rain, but not a single drop had make its appearance.

Butters made his way into the room, stopping a mere three feet behind his dark-haired peer.

"Kenny loves this weather," Stan began in his broken voice.

Butters was both surprised Stan spoke and puzzled at the statement. It seemed so casual and somehow out of place, but he decided his best bet was to play it along. At least he was talking. "How come?"

Stan shrugged slightly and shook his head, his eyes roving up to inspect higher parts of the sky. "He says it reminds him of your eyes."

Butters blinked, analyzed the sentence a moment and then looked down at his fidgeting hands. Kenny made him nervous. In a good way or bad way, he wasn't sure. The low-class blonde came on really strong, flirting and caressing openly. Although, Butters could admit he did like Kenny's touch and attention. A _whole _lot "Gee, I-I didn't even know he talked about me."

"He started talking about you a lot," Stan remembered. "I didn't really get it at first." He reached out, slowly tracing a finger against the fogged window. "He really likes you."

"Oh. But, I like you." Butters broke out, daring to take another step forward.

Stan turned from the window, his expression set in hard lines. "Look, Butters. You're a great friend. I care about you a lot, and I want you to be happy."

A smile curved Butters' mouth, only to fall again at Stan's next words.

"But that's not going to be with me. God, Butters, a month ago you were eyeing Wendy's… chest. You were straight."

"Well, so were you." Butters pointed out, rather harshly.

Stan pursed his lips in irritation. "I still am."

"Nuh uh. Eric says that you're in love with Kyle," He explained, casting glances at the photographs of the said boy and Stan in various places of the room. "Heck, I don't wanna make you mad or- or nothin', but I sorta believe him."

Stan simply shook his hand in the air as if to wave it all away. "That has nothing to do with this. The point is that I like you as a friend, and I want to keep you as a friend. That's all. No kisses, no holding hands, none of that. You're going to find somebody you're crazy about who's crazy about you. But, it's not going to be me."

His eyes were transfixed on the aforementioned pictures, and he nodded lightly to himself, as if only now understanding his love in its entirety. He smiled softly when he drew his attention back to Butters. "Are we cool?"

Butters returned the smile, happy he still had his friend although it felt like his chest was caving in. "Sure. We're cool." He dove in for a hug, startling the object of his affection for only a moment. His smile widened when he felt Stan's reluctant arms encircle him.

"Stan?"

"Yeah, Butters?"

He pulled out of the hug, instantly trading for some habitual knuckle clanking. "Well, I-I was just wondering," He gnawed his lower lip. "What else does Kenny say about me?"

As if on cue, the door swung open, followed by Kenny walking in casually.

"Hey, stranger. Long time no see." His words were directed toward Stan, but he wink suggestively at Butters, who smiled at him and began rubbing his knuckles together shyly.

"Don't you know how to knock?" Stan spat.

Kenny had already made his way to Butters side and was idly rubbing his shoulder. "No. Mama didn't learn me no manners." He slid his arm around Butters waist from behind and the other over his shoulder and down his chest, pulling the slightly taller boy back against his front half in a possessive hold. "I _hope _I didn't interrupt anything." He shot an accusing look at Stan, who in turn lifted his hands in defense.

"Dude, we were only talking."

Kenny squeezed his obsession in a hug from behind, drawing a large, triangular smile from the giddy preteen. "Kyle has something to say to you." He told Stan, moving on to the matter at hand. He looked to the empty doorway, then did a double take before rolling his eyes. "Hey, Casanova, get your ass in here!"

Kyle slowly peeked into the room, his eyes immediately seeking and finding Stan's. His heart rate increased, only to sink to his stomach when Stan's expression remained blank and turned his back to face the window.

Ever since Stan had gotten sick and disappeared for over a week, all Kyle wanted was to be near him again. Being without Stan was like being incomplete. Sure, there were lots of times they didn't see each other for a few days because of family trips and things, but that was different. He knew Stan was there when he needed him, he knew the separation was only temporary, that they were still friends. Now, he didn't even feel welcome in the room he was in almost as often as his own.

He looked to Kenny for guidance, completely over-looking the fact that his arms were still draped around Butters as if he were a coat and Butters were the coat rack. Kyle obeyed the living jacket's hand motion to enter the room and stood lingering between Stan and the doorway. He rubbed his arm nervously, eyes focused on the back of Stan's head. It made Kenny chuckle at how uncharacteristically shy he was being.

"We'll leave you two alone," He pronounced, releasing Butters from his hold and opting to take his hand and guide him away from the scene.

"Well, I-I'll see ya later then, Stan." Butters voiced as he was pulled through the door with Kenny.

The quiet click of the closing door was loud in comparison to the thick silence that followed. Neither of the two remaining were able to see the other's expression, making the situation even more uncomfortable. Though neither had much patience, Kyle fell short on his ability to bottle up his emotions the way Stan could, and -unable to swallow the tension any longer- was the first to crack. He took a step closer and tightened his fists at his sides.

"I know you hate me right now,"

_Exactly the opposite._ Stan thought, though he kept his mouth shut and his back to his former best friend. He wasn't about to make a bad deal worse. If Kyle wanted to call him sick, wrong, fucked-up, whatever, then he could do it without the extra bonus of seeing the tears he already felt coming on.

"But I can't just piss off like you want me to." Kyle continued onward. "I know you saw me here last night, and I'm…. sorry if that made things worse. I had to know what was going on with you, Stan. I care about you whether or not we're friends anymore." His voice saddened. "And whether or not you care about me anymore. They say not to give up on the people you love. So, I didn't. I couldn't stay in the dark. I needed a reason why you can't stand being near me."

Stan closed his eyes as slow tears began to leak out. His fingers curled into the hardness of the windowsill as he tried to brace himself for whatever was about to come. If he expected the worse, he couldn't be disappointed, even though he was positive he was about to be crushed.

"I know why you're avoiding me. It's stupid, dude. I don't want to stop being friends just because…. Because you… you…"

Stan grew hot in embarrassment, remembering the expression on Kyle's face the previous night, and the mortification he had felt after Kyle fled the room and he realized he was harder than hell.

Kyle pressed his hands to his eyes, his own memories flooding him full force. He felt tingles beginning to form deep in his stomach at the remembrance of being pressed so intimately against his friend, and silently cursed his body for betraying him a second time. He let his hands fall away from his face before speaking again.

"You can't help how you feel, alright?" He tried a different approach. "I understand that and I'm not going to hold it against you. It's okay, Stan. I don't hate you for it and I don't think any less of you." Silence greeted him, increasing his determination.

"Stan?" He asked, grabbing the said boys shoulder and forcefully turning him around. His lips parted in surprise at the steady flow of tears forcing themselves through Stan's saddened eyes. Kyle's heart ached at the sight. Without another thought or any conscious decision on his part, he folded Stan in his arms and cradled him close.

Stan remained limp in the embrace, his arms hanging lifeless at his side as he allowed Kyle to crush him against his body. He began to quake violently, the tears now building up to heartbreaking sobs.

"It's alright, Stan." Kyle soothed, rubbing circles into his back with his palm.

"I'm sorry, Kyle."

The sorrowful words twisted through Kyle's heart like a knife. He tightened his arms to bring Stan closer. But he couldn't get him close enough. "For what?"

"Everything," He choked out, not managing anything more.

Kyle took a moment to close his eyes, allowing the feeling of relief to flood him. "You have nothing to be sorry about. You freaked out, dude, I understand."

"I don't w-want to be g-gay." He stammered through tears.

Kyle laughed sadly, holding back his own water works. "You're not gay, you're just… genderly tolerant." He smiled at remembering Kenny's words.

Stan's crying began to calm, settling into hiccupy sniffles. "I-I'm what?"

"Genderly tolerant," Kyle repeated. "Kenny's words, not mine."

Stan allowed this new phrase sink in, then laughed through the few lingering tears. Kyle knew. Kyle knew his secret and here he was, holding tight without indication of breaking away any time soon. Stan's arms regained life, lifting to return his friends embrace.

Kyle sighed in relief at the gesture, his train of vision first looking heavenward then landing on the window. His breath caught at the sight of Stan's finger marks on the fogged glass;

_K + S_

"My Stan." Kyle whispered, tightening his arms around his once-again best friend and giving in to the urge of nuzzling his face in the crook of his neck.

"What are we going to do?" Stan's voice cut through the silence after a few moments.

Kyle pulled back, though keeping a firm grasp on his shoulders. "About-"

"Us." Stan finished for him. "It doesn't bother you that… that…"

"That my voice gives you a boner?" Kyle completed the sentence with a teasing smirk. He shook his head in answer, snickering at Stan's obvious embarrassment.

"Dude, it's not funny!" Stan snapped, taking a generous step back.

"Yes, it is." Kyle corrected through his amusement. "No wonder you've been wearing your book as a lap decoration during English." He clutched his hand to his stomach, doubling over as his laughter grew to uncontrollable levels. "And Kenny… Kenny drew a picture-"

Stan's eyebrows knit in anger as he waited for Kyle's attack to subside enough to speak again.

"He drew a picture of me talking to you, and you have your hands over your pants with a scared ass expression on your face!"

Stan moaned in torment and hid his face in his hand.

"Hey," Kyle pulled Stan's hand down, speaking through his last trail of mirth. "If it makes you feel any better, I kind of… like it."

Hope flooded Stan's soul, filling his eyes with a brightness. "Whoa, really?"

Kyle squeezed Stan's hand in his and nodded. "It might just be a phase we're going through. That happens, you know? But whatever it is, we'll get through it together. Hell, we're only in the sixth grade. We have plenty of time to figure out who we want to bone. If it turns out to be each other, then… Kenny's going to have to carry a rag with him to keep the drool off his chin, because he practically salivates now whenever we so much as touch each other. Can you imagine if he had to watch us make-out in the school halls every day?"

The possibility lighten Stan's heart further. He managed a smile and finally a small laugh before a thump and crash exploded through the room, drawing their attention to the closet. The door had swung open, revealing a very bemused-haired and well kissed looking Butters, sitting on the floor in the middle of the small area designed for hanging clothes.

"Butters?" Stan questioned

"Oh, uh… Hey- Hey'a fella's." Butters waved nervously.

Three pairs of eyes landed on Kenny, who had tumbled out when the door burst open and now lay flat on his back, staring up at his friends through half-lidded eyes.

"So you couldn't even make it to your own house." Kyle accused.

"What is it with you and closets, anyway?" Stan wondered.

Kenny let a laugh be his answer. A laugh that clearly said, "You have no idea what you're missing" as he rose to a sitting position and crawled back to Butters side. His lips meshed against the more innocent blonde as he reached up and closed them back into the darkness of the closet.

"Ah-aww!" Stan whined, squeezing his eyes closed and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Dude, that's my closet."

"Yeah, but Kenny really loves closets, and he really loves Butters." Kyle grinned and nudged his grossed-out friend in the side. "Maybe we can try that later," He suggested before heading toward the exiting door. "Come on, lets go make faces at old people."

A series of shivers raced through Stan's body at the thought of locking himself in a closet with Kyle. He then smiled, adopting Kenny's behavior by allowing himself a glance at his friends ass as he followed him out of the room.

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_-BratChild3 (Lisha)_


	15. Epilogue: Melted Chocolate

**Authors Note: **Now, we all know that chapters like this are the only reason anyone reads fanfics to begin with. :) Savor it.

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**Epilogue: Melted Chocolate.**

Stan could hear his heart pounding in his ears as he took in the smile his best friend cast his way. The simple gesture was enough to set off love alarms in the blue-eyed teen. He smiled back dreamily, though somewhat shakily. It had been little over three years since the incidents following Cartman's sudden find of psychic abilities reared its ugly head, and Stan's affections had only fallen deeper.

Though him and Kyle had simply and immediately fallen back into the routine of best friends, Stan never really understood how either of them tolerated the embarrassment of the moments he had to tell Kyle to shut the fuck up because his voice was just the right tone at that particular moment to set Stan's hormones on fire. All he knew was that somehow they did find a way to work it out, as Kyle had promised they would.

But Stan wanted more as the days breezed by. Kenny thought it a riot, and even taught him some techniques on how to touch Kyle without him realizing Stan was purposely feeling him up. Stan felt guilty at first, but eventually his craving to touch Kyle anywhere and everywhere as often as possible outweighed his good intentions. His subtle gestures became more and more defined, and he knew Kyle knew what he was doing most of the time. The thing was, Kyle seemed to like it, almost encourage the slightly suggestive behavior by light hints of his own; a touch on the knee, a sly wink, he was even sitting so close that their thighs were pressed against one another on the bus, at the lunch tables, and even on each others couches.

Though Stan soaked in every moment, he couldn't help but become even more confused and even frustrated at times, wondering if these flirtations were simply Kyle's way of letting him know that he was still okay with Stan's feelings, or if he honestly felt something back.

The most open hint came in the form of teasing one night Kyle was staying over. They never had used sleeping bags when staying at each other's houses, they simply pushed each other out of the way to make room on the bed. Kyle obviously felt this unspoken rule still applied, even after certain events had unfolded.

It was the first sleepover they had in a long while, only two weeks after Stan's secret was let out. Kyle's parents and Ike left him behind for the weekend to attend a family reunion, which Kyle was excluded from as punishment for disrespectful behavior when he back talked his mother in Hebrew for forcing him to eat something he didn't want. Little did they know that this punishment was actually a relief to the fiery redhead, who would much rather spend a weekend with his best buddy over meeting weird people who were supposedly related to him.

He had slipped on the T-shirt he usually slept in while Stan was brushing his teeth, and slid into his friends bed without a second thought. That is, until Stan walked back into the room and froze shock-still at the sight of Kyle all cozy in his bed.

Kyle smirked at this behavior, scooted over to make room and rubbed the empty mattress beside him provocatively.

"Aren't you gonna _come _to bed, Stan?" He purred.

Stan flushed deep and fiercely at the question, leaving Kyle no choice but to laugh insanely.

"Very fucking funny." Stan hissed, still standing awkwardly in his doorway.

"I thought so." Kyle grinned. "Ah, C'mon, Dude. I was just _fucking _with you. Don't you like to _fuck _around with me? I like to _fuck _around with you."

Stan's blush darkened, sending Kyle into another fit of hysteria.

"I'll sleep on the couch." The embarrassed one decided, and turned to take his leave.

"Please don't go."

He paused at the serious words, keeping his back toward Kyle.

"I- want you to stay with me." He admitted, all laughter and jokes aside.

Stan turned back around to find the Jew sitting upward, his pleading eyes crying out for Stan's acceptance of the invitation.

"Are you sure you wont feel… kind of…"

"No," Kyle cut him off. "I told you, Stan, it's okay. I don't feel weird about it. Nothing has changed between us, so we shouldn't act like it has."

Stan smiled back, though his heart hurt from the words. He closed his door like he did every night and crawled under his baby blue blanket with Kyle. Once settled, it was quiet for a moment before he sensed Kyle smiling in the darkness.

"What?" Stan questioned.

Kyle shook his head. "Nothing."

"What?"

Kyle bit back his amusement. "Well it's just," He sighed, sounding completely serious before turning to his side and speaking low in Stan's ear. "Is it getting hot in here?" His finger traced up his companions arm as he spoke.

"Kyle!" Stan shrieked, springing up in bed and staring frightfully down at his once again laughing friend.

"Okay, okay! I promise I'll stop now, Dude. I couldn't resist." He surrendered, though it took a few seconds for his snickering to die down.

Stan sunk back against his pillows slowly, eyes set solely on Kyle as he did so. Once relaxed again, his eyelids were just beginning to get heavy when Kyle turned onto his stomach and slung an arm across Stan's waist. The raven haired youth looked down at his sleeping friend and smiled as he placed his hand over the fair-skinned arm.

"Goodnight, Kyle."

That night had long since came and went, and their friendship bond strengthened through each obstacle, sleepover, awkward moment, and serious talk.

The three years since then were one's Stan would never trade for anything in the world, but feared were beginning to fade away like memories lost long ago. The idea of Stan's affection seemed to become less amusing to Kyle as they became older. Though he never acted as if this was a problem, his teasing flirtations died down more and more as time crept on. And just when Stan would feel he had imagined any receptive feelings from Kyle, the said boy would touch his friend or smile in a way he never had before, restoring the dark haired teens faith that maybe their really was a chance.

He had realized over the years that what he had been going through wasn't a phase at all, but a breaking point, the start of something more powerful than that; Love.

But, lately his worry had began to sink in. Kyle hadn't shown any interest back in one month, three weeks, five days and counting.

He was over at Stan's house at the moment, just the two of them. Stan's parents had gone out for the evening, but not before pulling fresh baked chocolate chip cookies from the oven for his mom's "_favorite little man and his best friend_."

Even though Kyle was a diabetic, he was allowed a treat once in a while, so long as he took care of himself the rest of the time. So, naturally he had absolutely no problem snatching a cookie off the pan and stuffing it into his mouth.

"Mmm," He hummed as he licked the gooey chocolate remains off his lips. "Your mom makes the best cookies, dude."

"_Mmm"_ was damn right, but it wasn't the cookies Stan was craving. He took his own cookie from the pan and helped himself to a big bite, disregarding that they were just in a metal box heated to four hundred and fifty degrees, and the fact that he never could tolerate heat as well as Kyle could. The hot chocolate dots burned his tongue and fingertips straight away.

"Hot, hot!" He yelped, dropping the offending circle of sweet, chocolaty goodness to the ground.

Kyle quickly grabbed Stan's hand and inserted his fingers into his mouth, hurriedly sucking off the scorching sweetness that was burning his friend. It had only hurt for a moment, even before Kyle's lips could make contact with skin. But, Stan wasn't about to protest as the ginger haired boy continued to lick each finger slow and deliberately. He smiled at Stan after he had finished his task, only the now mesmerized boy was too stiff in the pants to return it.

"You've got some right there," Kyle told him, tracing his index finger over Stan's lips. "Want me to get it?"

_Oh my god…_

He wanted anything as long as it was from Kyle.

Kyle must have taken the silence as an invitation, because he leaned into his company and began sucking the chocolate off his lower lip. Stan inhaled a sharp take off breath when Kyle's tongue made contact to lap up what the suction of his lips left behind.

Stan expected him to pull away, but to his delight, the Jew pulled him closer as his tongue sunk into his mouth.

Kyle's tongue began to retreat, but he paused to place another kiss on Stan's lips before pulling away completely.

"Stan," He whispered passionately and leaned his forehead against his friends. He continued on only after rubbing their noses together in an Eskimo kiss. His arms had long since wrapped around Stan's waist, and now caressed downward until his hands slipped into his back pockets.

"Remember when I said I would tell you if I get the urge to rip your pants off and suck you dry?" Kyle's hands squeezed through the material of Stan's jeans and pushed his front half closer into his.

Stan nodded, his lungs feeling like were on fire from his ragged breathing.

"I'm telling you." Kyle confessed.

Stan didn't even have time to be surprised at this before Kyle's lips crashed against his again. He was almost violent with his passion, and it turned Stan on so badly he felt like he was going to explode. The redhead was somehow able to direct his object of lust to the couch without ever breaking the kiss, and pushed him back so he fell onto it. Kyle crawled on top of his startled friend and this time opted to kiss his neck instead of lips.

Still, Stan didn't protest.

He felt Kyle's hands slipping down the sides of his waist and pushing his shirt up just enough to expose his stomach. He then scooted down Stan's body, making a point of caressing the front of the aroused playmates pants with his own stomach on the way down. His eyes bore into the dominated as his fingers worked to unzip his pants.

"I've been wanting to do this for a long time."

Stan's response was a quiet moan alive with unimaginable ecstasy and longing. He wanted to say something more intelligent than that. He wanted to express all the emotions swirling in and around him. He wanted to tell Kyle that he loved him, but his smile and gentle brush of palm against Stan's cheek was enough to assure him that he already knew.

"I love you, too, Stan." He breathed the words against Stan's body, allowing his breath to hit the exposed span of skin visible between the material of his parted zipper. His head lowered until his lips connected with visible skin.

"Ky- ah!" Is all Stan was able to get out before he was saturated in the sensations of Kyle's tongue for the first time.

End>

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_-BratChild3 (Lisha) _


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